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®|£ (SiiglisI] familj 


THE DESERT HOME; 


OR, THE 


ADVENTUKES OF A LOST FAAHLY 

\ 

IN THE ^\TLDEKNESS. 


t. BY 

CAPTAIN MAYNE REID, 

» t 

AUTHOR OF “ THE RIFLE RANGERS,” ETC. 


WITH TWELVE ILLUSTILVTIONS. BY WILLIAM HARVEY. 


A NEW EDITION, 



813 Broadway. 
1885. 


I 



\ 


T’Z 1 
7S\2.'\5a 




Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1851, by 
TICKNOR AND FIELDS, 

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 

/ 


Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1884, by 
THOMAS R. KNOX & CO.. 
in the office of the Librarian ''f Congress, at Washington. 


New Yobk, January 1st, 1869. 

Messes. Fields, Osgood & Co.:— 

I accept the terms offered, and hereby concede to you the exclusive right of 
publication, in the United States, of all my juvenile Tales of Adventure, known 
as Boys’ Novels. 

MAYNE REID. 


V 


TRO^V*8 

PRINTING and bookbinding COMPANY^ 


NEW YORK. 


w 



- 



CONTENTS. 

\ 


miFTB 


rAmn 

I. 

GREAT AMERICAN DESERT, 

8 

n. 

THE WHITE PEAK, .... 

IS 

ni. 

THE VALLEY OASIS, . 

96 

IV. 

THE STRANGE SETTLEMENT, 

35 

V. 

ROLFE’S EARLY HISTORY, . 

46 

V 

“ 


VI. 

THE VIRGINIA PLANTATION, 

. . 51 

■vn. 

THE CARAVAN AND ITS FATE, . 

. . 58 

vm. 

THE MINER’S STORY, .... 

69 

IX. 

.LOST IN THE DESERT. . ' 

. '. . 81 

X. 

ADVENTURE WITH AN ARMADILLO. 

93 

XI. 

AVERY LEAN BUFFALO, 

. . lOQ 

XII 

THE BIGHORNS, . .... 

115 

xm 

IHE GREAT ELK, . * 

m 


1 * 


6 


CONTENTS. 


KTV. ADVENTURE WITH THE CARCAJOU, 

XV. A FRUITLESS SEARCH FOR A TRAIL, 149 

XVI. THE MYSTERIOUS FLOOD, . 156 

XVn THE BEAVERS AND WOLVERENE, 165 

XVIII. HOW TO BUILD A LOG CABIN, ... 176 

XIX. THE SAGACIOUS SQUIRREL, ... 183 

XX. A HOUSE BUILT WITHOUT A NAIL, 189 

XXL A BATTUE OF BLACKTAILS, . . . .196 

XXII. CATCHING A TARTAR, 905 

XXHI. THE SALT SPRING, 214 

XXIV THE BATTLE OF THE SNAKES, . 2SM 

XXV. THE SUGAR TREE,'. 235 

AXVI. THE STUMP TREE AND THE BREAD PINE, 246 
XXVII. THE SNOW LINE, . . . . . v . . 259 

tXVni. THE MENAGERIE, AVIARY, AND BOTANIC 

GARDEN, ... 269 

XXIX TRAPPING THE BEASTS AND BIRDS, . . 276 

XXX. THE BITERS BIT, . ' 284 

XXXI. BATTLE OF THE MARTEN AND FORCUPINE, 290 

/ 

XXXIL THE CUNNING OLD “’COON,” .... 300 

XXXm. LITTLE MARY AND THE BEE, .... 307 
XXXIV A GRAND BEE HUNT, ... , 314 

XXXV. A RIVAL HONEY ROBBER, . . 320 

XXXVI THE BATTLE OF THE BUCKS, . 330 


CONTENTS. 


1 


JULXVIL THE PIT TRAP, ... . . .345 

IXXVIII THE OLD “’POSSUM” AND HER KITTENS, 358 
XXXIX. THE MOCCASON SNAKE AND THE ORIOLES, 166 
XL. THE BATTLE OF THE COUGAR AND PEC- 



CARIES, 


STS 

XLl 

BESIEGED IN A TREE, . 

• • 

384 

XLH 

AN ADVENTURE WITH DUSKY 

WOLVES, 

399 

XUII 

TAMING THE GREAT ELK, . 


398 

ALIV 

CATCHING THE WILD HORSES. 


4M 


^iluBtratinns. 


•Aoa 

L LOTCOLN WITH THE BIGHOKN, (rrontisjneee,j 27 

n. DOGS DEFENDING A CHILD FROM WOLVEt, 68 

m HARRY KILLS A PRONG-HORNED ANTEL03 /iJ, 110 
IV THE WOUNDED ELK AT BAY, ... 138 


V. THE OX KILLED BY THE CARCAJOU, . . 146 

- VI. THE WOLVERENE AND THE BEAVERS, 173 

Vn. THE ESCAPE OF THE SKUNK, ... .210 

FHI. THE STOREHOUSE OF SUGAR MAPLES, 245 

IX. THE MARTEN AND THE PORCUPINF, 293 

X. THE BEAR IN THE HONEY TREE, . 333 

XI. THE OPOSSUM AND THE ORIOLES, . 382 

TIL BESIEGED BY PECCARIES, SM 


CHAPTER 1. 


THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT. 

Thebe is a great desert in the interior of ISorth 
America. It is almost as large as the famous Saara 
of Africa. It is fifteen hundred miles long, and a 
thousand wide. Now, if it were a regular shape, — 
that is to say, a parallelogram, — you could at once 
compute its area, by multiplying the length ipon 
the breadth ; and you would obtain one million and 
a half for the result — one million and a half of 
square miles. But its outlines are as yet very im« 
perfectly known ; and although it is fully fifteen 
hundred miles long, and in some places a thousand 
in breadth, its surface extent is probably not over 
one million of square miles, or twenty-five times the 
size of England. Fancy a desert twenty-five times 
as big as all England ! Do you not think that it 
has received a most appropriate name, when it is 
called the Grmt American Desert 'i 


10 


THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT. 


Now, my young friend, what do you understand 
by a desert ? I think I can guess. When you 
read or hear of a desert, you think of a vast .fevel 
plain, covered with sand, and without trees, or grass, 
or any kind of vegetation. You think, also of this 
sand being blown about in thick, yellow clouds, and 
no water to be seen in any direction. This is your 
idea of a desert ; is it not ? Well, it is not altogether 
the correct one It is true that in almost eveiy 
desert there are these sandy plains, yet are there 
^ther parts of its surface of a far different character, 
equally deserving the name of desert. Although 
,hn interior of the great Saara has not yet been fully 
•xplored, enough is known of it to prove that it con- 
tains large tracts of mountainous and hilly country 
with rocks and valleys, lakes, rivers, and springs. 
There are, also, fertile spots, at wide distances from 
each other, covered with trees, and shrubs, and beau 
tiful vegetation. Some of these spots are small, 
while others are of large extent, and inhabited by 
independent tribes, and even whole kingdoms of 
people. A fertile tract of this kind is called an 
oasis ; and, by looking at your map, you will per- 
ceive that there are many oases in the Saara of 
Africa. 

Of a similar character is the Great Amencan 
Desert ; but its surface is still more varied with 
what may be termed “ geographical features.” There 


THE GREAT AMERI JAN DESERT 


u 


are plains — some of them more than a hundred miles 
wide — where you can see nothing but white sand, 
often drifting about on the wind, and here and there 
thrown into long ridges such as those made bv a 
snow storm. There are other plains, equally large, 
where no sand appears, but brown barren earth, utterly 
destitute of vegetation. There are others, again, od 
which grows a stunted shrub, with leaves of a pale 
silvery color. In some places it grows so thickly 
interlocking its twisted and knotty branches, that a 
horseman can hardly ride through among them 
This shrub is the artemisia^ — a species of wild sage 
or wormwood, — and the plains upon which it grows 
are called by the hunters who cross them the sage 
prairies. Other plains are met with that present a 
black aspect to the traveller. These are covered with 
lava, that at some distant period of time has been 
vomited forth from volcanic mountains, and now 
lies frozen up, and broken into small fragments like 
the stones upon a new-made road. Still other plains 
present themselves in the American Desert. Some 
are white, as if snow had fallen freshly upon them , 
and yet it is not sncw, but salt ! Yes ; pure white 
sa-t — covering the ground six inches deep, and for 
fifty miles, in every direction ! Others, again, have 
a simi'ar appearance ; but instead of salt, you find 
the substance which covers them to be soda — a beau* 
lifid efflorescence of soda ! 


12 


THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT. 


There are mountains, too — indeed, one half of the 
desert is very mountainous ; and the great chain of 
the Rocky Mountains — of which you have no doubt 
heard — runs sheer through it from north to south, 
and divides it into two nearly equal parts. But 
there are other mountains besides these ; mountains 
of eveiy height, and sometimes in their -shape and 
color presenting very striking and singular appear- 
ances. Some of them run for miles in horizontal 
ridges like the roofs of houses, and seemingly so 
narrow at their tops that one might sit astride of 
them. Others, again, of a conical form, stand out 
in the plain apart from the rest, and look like tea- 
cups turned upon their mouths in the middle of 
a table. Then there are sharp peaks that shoot 
upward like needles, and others shaped like the 
dome of some great cathedral — like the dome of St. 
Paul’s. These mountains are of many colors. Some 
ire dark, or dark green, or blue when seen from 
a distance. They are of this color when covered 
by forests of pine or cedar, both of which trees are 
found in great plenty among the mountains of the 
desert. 

There are many mountains where nc trees are 
seen, nor any signs of vegetation along their sides 
[luge naked rocks of granite appear piled upon each 
other, or jutting out over dark and frowning chasms. 
The-e are peaks perfectly white, because they ar»* 


THE GREAT AMERICAN DE&LRT. 13 

ijoverod with a thick mantle of snow. These can 
always be seen from the greatest distance, as the 
snow lying upon them all the year without melting 
proves them to be of vast elevation above the level 
of the sea. There are other peaks almost as white, 
and yet it is not with snow. They are of a milky 
hue, and stunted cedar trees may be seen clinging 
in seams and crevices along their sides. These are 
mountains of pure limestone, or the white quartz rock. 
There are mountains, again, upon which neither 
tree nor leaf is to be seen ; but, in their stead, the 
most vivid colors of red and green, and yellow and 
white, running in stripes along their sides, as though 
they had been freshly painted. These stripes mark 
the strata of different colored rocks, of which the 
mountains are composed. And there are still omer 
mountains in the Great American Desert, to startle 
the traveller with their strange appearance. They 
are those that glitter with the mica and selenite. 
These, when seen from a distance flashing under 
the sun, look as though thqy were mountains of silver 
and gold. 

The rivers, too ; strange rivers are theyl Some 
run over broad shallow beds of bright sand. Large 
yivers — hundreds of yards in width, with sparkling 
waters. Follow them down their course. What do 
you find ? Instead of growing \arger, like the rivers 
of your own land, they become less and less, iriil 
2 


14 


THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT. 


at length their waters sink into the sands, and you 
see nothing but the dry channel for miles upon miles. 
Go still farther, and again the water appears, and 
onward increases in volume, until, thousands of miles 
from the sea, large ships can float upon their bosom. 
Such are the Arkansas and the Platte. 

There are other rivers that run between bleak, 
rocky banks — banks a thousand feet high, whose 
bald, naked “ bluffs ” frown at each other across the 
deep chasm, in the bottom of which roars the troubled 
water. Often these banks extend for hundreds of 
miles, so steep at all points that one cannot go down 
to the bed of their stream ; and often, often the 
traveller has perished with thirst, while the roar of 
their water was sounding in his eai-s. Such are the 
Colorado and the Snake. 

Still- others go sweeping through the broad plains, 
tearing up the clay with their mighty floods, and yeai 
after year changing their channels, until they are 
sometimes a hundred miles from their ancient beds. 
Here they are found gurgling for many leagues under 
ground — under vast rafts formed by the trees which 
they have borne downward in their current. There 
you find them winding by a thousand loops, like the 
sinuosities of a great serpent, rolling sluggishly along, 
with waters red and turbid as though ‘hey were 
nvers of blood. Such are the Brazos and the Red. 

Strange rivers are they that struggle through the 


THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT. ' 1ft 

mountains, and valleys, and plateau lands of the Great 
A.merican Desert. - 

Not less strange are its lakes. Some lie in the 
deep recesses of hills that dip down so steeply you 
cannot reach their shores ; while the mountains around 
them are so bleak and naked, that not even a bird 
ever wings its flight across their silent waters. Othei 
lakes are seen in broad, barren plains ; ,and yet, a 
few years after, the traveller finds them not — they 
have dried up and disappeared. Some are fresh, with 
waters like crystal ; others brackish and muddy ; 
while many of them are more salt than the ocean 
itself. 

In this desert there are springs — springs of soda 
and sulphur, and salt waters ; and others so hot that 
they boil up as in a great caldron, and you could not 
dip your finger into them without scalding it. 

There are vast caves piercing the sides of the 
mountains, an’d deep chasms opening into the plains 
— some of them so deep that you might fancy moun- 
tains had been scooped out to form them. They are 
called “ barrancas.” There are precipices rising 
strait up from the plains, thousands of feet in height, 
and steep as a wall ; and through the mountains 
themselves you may see great clefts cut by the rivers, 
as though they had been tunnelled and their tops had 
fallen in. They are called “ canons.” All these 


16 


THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT. 


BinjTular formations mark the wild region of the (jxgblY 
American Desert. 

It has its denizens. There are oases in it ; some 
of them large, and settled by civilized men. One of 
these is the country of New Mexico, containing many 
towns, and 30,000 inhabitants. These are of the 
Spanish and mixed Indian races. Another oasis is 
the country around the Great Salt and Utah Lakes. 
Here is also a settlement, established in 1846. Its 
people are Americans and Englishmen. They are 
the Mormons ; and, though they dwell hundreds of 
miles from any sea, they will in time become a large 
and powerful nation of themselves. 

Besides these two great oases, there are thousands 
of others of all sizes — from fifty miles in breadth, to 
the .little spot of a few acres, formed by the fertilizing 
waters of some gurgling spring. Many of these are 
without inhabitants. In others, again, dwell tribes of 
Indians^ some of them numerous and powerful, pos- 
sessing horses and cattle ; while others are found in 
small groups of three or four families each, subsisting 
miserably upon roots, seeds, grass, reptiles, and insects. 

Ill addition to the two great settlements we have men 
tioned, and the Indians, there is another class of men 
scattered over this region. These are white men — 
hunters and trappers. They subsist by trapping the 
beaver and hunting the bufiaJo and other animala 


THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT. I*} 

Iheir lift s one continued scene of peril, both fiom 
the wild a»Ttmals which they encounter in their lonely 
excursions, and the hostile Indians with whom they 
come in contact. These men procure the furs of the 
beaver, the otter, the muskrat, the marten, the ermine- 
the lynx, the fox, and the skins of many other an- 
imals. This is their business, and by this they Tive. 
There are forts, or trading posts, established by ad- 
venturous merchants, at long distances from each 
other ; and at these forts the trappers exchange their 
furs for the necessary implements of their periloug 
calling. 

There is another class of men who traverse the 
great desert. For many years there has been a com- 
merce carried on between the oasis of New Mexico 
and the United States. This commerce employs a 
considerable amount of capital, and a great number of 
men, principally Americans. The goods are trans- 
ported in large wagons drawn by mules o- oxen * 
and a train of these wagons is called a ' caravan.” 
Other caravans — Spanish ones — cross the western 
wing of the desert, from Sonora to California, and 
thence to New Mexico. Thus, you see, the Amer 
ican Desert has its caravans as well as the Saara. 

These caravans travel for hundreds of miles 
through countries in which there are no inhabitants, 
except the scattered and roving bands of Indians ; an^ 
2 * B 


16 


THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT. 


there are many parts so sterile, that not even Ihes* 
can exist in them. 

The caravans, however, usually follow a track 
which is known, and where grass and water may be 
found at certain seasons of the year. There are 
several of these tracks, or, as they are called, “ trails,” 
that cross from the frontier settlements of the United 
States to those of New Mexico. Between one and 
another of them, however, stretch vast regions of 
desert country, — entirely unexplored and unknown, 
— and many fertile spots exist, that have never been 
trodden by the foot of man. 

Such, then, my young friend, is a rough sketch of 
some of the more prominent features of the Great 
American Desert. 

Let me conduct you into it, and show you, from a 
nearer view, some of its wild but interesting aspects. 
I shall not show you the wildest of them, lest they 
might terrify you. Fear not, I shall not lead you into 
danger. Follow me. 


4 


TE£ WHITE PEAK. 


19 


CHAPTER IL 

THE WHITE PEAK. 

Some y^sars ago, I was one of a party of “ prairie 
merchants” who crossed with a caravan from St. 
Louis, on the Mississippi, to Santa Fe, in New Mexico. 
We followed the usual “ Santa Fe trail.” Not dis- 
posing of all our goods in New Mexico, we kept on 
to the great town of Chihuahua, which lies farther 
to the south. There we settled our business, and 
were about to return to the United States the way we 
had come, when it was proposed (as we had now 
nothing to encumber us but our bags of money) that 
we should explore a new “ trail ” across the prairies. 
We all wished to find a better route than the Santa 
Fe road ; and we expected that such a one lay be- 
tween the town of El Paso, on the Del Norte River, 
and some point on the frontiers of Arkansas. 

On arriving at El Paso, we sold our wagons, and 
purchased Mexican pack mules — engaging, at the 
same time, a number of “ arrieros,” or muleteers, tc 
manage them. We also purchased saddle horses — 
she small tight horses of New Mexico, which are ex 


20 


THE WHITE PEAK. 


cellent for journeying in the desert. We pic video 
ourselves, moreover, with such articles of clothing 
and provisions as we might require upon our un- 
known route. Having got every thing ready for the 
journey, we bade adieu to El Paso, and turned out 
faces eastward. There were in all twelve of us — 
traders, and a number of hunters, who had agreed to 
accompany us across the plains. There was a miner 
too, who belonged to a copper mine near El Paso. 
There were also four Mexicans — the “ arrieros,” 
who had charge of our little train of pack mules. 
Of course, we were all well armed, and mounted 
upon the best horses we could procure for money. 

We had first to cross over the Rocky Mountains, 
which run north and south through all the country. 
That chain of them which lies eastward of El Paso is 
called the Sierra de Organos, or “ Organ Mountains.” 
They are so called from the fancied resemblance 
which is seen in one of their cliffs to the tubes of an 
organ. These cliffs are , of trap rock, which, as you 
are aware, often presents very fantastic and singular 
formations, by means of its peculiar stratification. But 
there is a still more curious feature about these Organ 
Mountains On the top of one of them is a iake, which 
has its tides, that ebb and flow like the tides of the 
ocean. No one has yet accounted for this remark- 
able phenomenon, and it i-emains a puzzle to the 
geological inquirer. This lake is a favorite resort foi 


THE WIIITE PEAK. 


21 


the wild animals of the country , and deer and elk are 
found in great numbers around its shores. They are 
not even molested by the Mexican hunters of these 
parts, who seem to have a superstitious fear of the 
spirits of the Organ Mountains, and rarely climb up 
their steep sides. 

Our party found an easy pass through the range, 
which brought us out into an open country on the 
other side. After travelling several days through the 
eastern spurs of the Rocky Mountains, we struck upon 
a small stream, which we followed downward. It 
brought us at length to a large river running north 
and south, which we knew to be the celebrated Pecos, 
or, as it is sometimes called, the Puerco. These, 
you will perceive, are all Spanish names, for the 
country through which we were travelling, although 
uninhabited and even unexplored by the Mexican 
Spaniards, was yet part of their territory ; and such 
objects as were known to them, through hunters or 
others, had received names in their language. 

We crossed the Pecos, and travelled for some days 
up its left bank, in hopes of reaching some other 
stieam that might run into it from the east, which we 
coul J follow. No such stream appeared ; and wo 
were forced at times to leave the Pecos itself, and 
take out into the open country for a distance of miles, 
before we could get back to its waters. This was on 
account of the deep channel which the nver — work 


22 


TH.S WHITE PEAK. 


ing for long ages — had cut through hills that opposed 
Its course, leaving on both sides vast precipices fc» 
Its banks. 

Having now got farther to the north than we 
wished, our party at length determined to attempt the 
passage of the arid plain which stretched away east* 
ward as far as the eye could reach. It was a perilous 
enterprise to leave the river, without some knowledge 
that there was water ahead of us. Travellers, undei 
such circumstances, usually keep close to a stream, 
wherever it runs in the direction in which they wish 
to go ; but we had grown impatient on not finding 
any one flowing into the Pecos from the east ; and 
having filled our gourd canteens, and given our ani- 
mals as much water as they could drink, we turned 
their heads towards the open plain. 

After riding for several hours, we found ourselves 
in the midst of a wide desert, with neither hill, moun- 
tain, nor any other landmark in view. Scarcely a 
trace of vegetation appeared around us. Here and 
there were patches of stunted sage bushes and clumps 
of thorny cactus, but not a blade of grass to gladden 
:he eyes of our animals. Not a drop of water was 
met with, nor any indication that rain had ever fallen 
upon that parched plain. The soil was as dry as 
powder, and the dust kicked up by the hoofs of out 
mules and horses hung around us in a cloud as w« 
inarched. In addition to this, the heat was excessive 


THE WHITE PEAK. 


23 


and this, with the dust and fatigue of travel, brought 
on an unquenchable thirst, that soon caused us to 
drink up the contents of our water gourds. Long 
before night they were all empty, and every one of 
>ur party was crying out from thirst. Our animals 
suffered worse ; for we, at least, had food, while they, 
poor brutes, were without a bite to sustain them. 

We could not well turn back. We thought we 
should surely come to water, sooner than we could 
get back to the river ; and with this hope we struggled 
on. Late in the afternoon, our eyes were greeted 
by a glad sight, that caused us to start up in our 
saddles with a feeling of joy. You may think that it 
was water — but it was not. It was a white object 
that appeared against the sky at a great distance. 
It was of a triangular shape, and seemed to be sus- 
pended in the air like the upper half of a huge kite. 
All of us knew at a glance what it was. We knew 
that it was th& white cap of a snowy mountain. 

You will wonder why this sight should have given 
us such feelings of pleasure, as, in your opinion, 
there is nothing very hospitable in the appearance of 
a snow-capped mountain. That is because you do 
not understand the peculiarities of the desert. I 
shall exp ain. We knew from the appearance of the 
mountain that it was one of those where the snow 
lies forever and which throughout Mexico are termed 
'* Nevada,” or snowy. Vie knew, moreover, that. 


24 


THE WHITE PEAK. 


wherever these are met with, streams of water will 
De found running down their sides, almost at all 
seasons, but certainly in hot or summer weather, in 
consequence of the melting of the snow. It was this 
knowledge, then, that cheered us ; and although the 
mountain seemed at a great distance, we pushed for- 
ward with renewed energy and hope. Our animals, 
too, as if they also understood the matter, neighed 
and brayed loudly, and stepped out with a more 
springy and elastic tread. 

The white triangle grew bigger as we advanced. 
At sunset we could distinguish the brown seams in 
the lower part of the mountain ; and the yellow rays 
dancing upon the snowy crystals of the cone caused 
it to glitter like a coronet of gold. The sight cheered 
us on. 

The sun set, and the moon took his place in the 
heavens. Under her pale light we travelied on — the 
peak of the mountain still glistening coldly before us 
We travelled all night — and why not.? . There was 
nothing to halt for. We could not have halted, ex- 
cept to die. 

The morning broke upon us as we dragged wearily 
along. We could not have ridden less than a hun- 
dred miles since we left the Pecos River ; and yet, to 
our dismay, the mountain was still at a good distance 
before us. As the day brightened, we could trace 
the configuration of its base and we observed tha 


IHE WHITE PEAK- 


apon its southern face a deep ravine indented the 
mountain nearly to its top. Or its western side — 
the one nearest us — there was no such feature ; and 
wo conjectured that the most likely place for water 
would be in the ravine on the south, where a stream 
might be formed by the aggregation of the melted 
snow water. 

We directed our course towards the point, where 
the ravine appeared to have its debouchment on the 
plain. We had calculated rightly : as we approached 
it, winding round the foot of the mountain, we saw 
a line of a bright green color, running out into the 
brown desert. It looked like a low hedge, with here 
and there tall trees growing up above the rest. We 
knew well what it was- — it was a grove of willows, 
with trees of cottonwood interspersed. We knew 
them to be the sure signs of water, and we hailed 
their appearance with delight. The men huzzaed 
hoarsely — the horses neighed — the mules hinnied 

and, in a few moments more, men, mules, and 
noises were kneeling by a ciystal runlet — drink* 
ing leeply of its waters. 

U 


THE VALLEY OASIS. 




CHAPTER m. 

THE VALLEY OASIS. 

After so long and terrible a journey, of course, w« 
all stood in need of rest and refreshment. We made 
up our minds to stay by the stream all night, and 
perhaps for a day or two. The fringe of willows 
extended on both sides of it, for a distance of fifty 
yards into the plain ; and among these, growing 
under their shade, there were patches of grass — that 
species known in Mexico as the gramma grass. It 
is a rich, nutritious herbage ; and horses and cattle — 
as well as the buffaloes and other wild animals — are 
very fond of it. Our mules and horses gave proof 
of this ; for, as soon as they had satisfied themselvei 
with the water, they attacked it with open mouths 
and eyes sparkling with delight. We relieved them 
of their packs and saddles ; and then, having picketea 
them, left them to eat to their hearts’ content. 

We now set about looking after something for our 
own suppers. We had not yet suffered much from 
hunger, as we had occasionally chewed pieces of our 
dried meat while crossing the plain. But we had 


THE VALJ.EY OASIS 


2*1 


eaten it quite raw ; and tasajo — for that is its name 

— is no great eating, either raw or roasted. We 
had been living upon it for more than a week, and 
we longed for something fresh. During all the route 
from El Paso we had fallen in with no game, except 
some half dozen lean antelopes, only one of which 
we had succeeded in shooting. 

While we were picketing our animals, and getting 
ready to cook our suppers of coffee and tasajo, one 
of the hunters — a tireless fellow named Lincoln — 
had stolen off up the ravine. Presently we heard 
the sharp crack of his rifle ringing through the defile ; 
and, looking up, we saw a flock of “ bighorns ” — 
so the wild sheep of the Rocky Mountains are called 

— leaping from rock to rock, and almost flying like 
birds up the face of the cliffs. It was not long be- 
fore Lincoln made his appearance at the mouth of 
the defile, carrying a large body upon his shoulders, 
which we knew, by the huge crescent-shaped horns, 
had been a member of the flock we had seen escap- 
ing. It proved to be as fat as a buck ; and the 
knives of the skilful hunters were not long in skin- 
ning and dissecting it. Meanwhile, a couple of axes 
had been grappled by stout hands ; a cottonwood 
came crashing down after a few sharp blows ; and, 
having been cut into “ logs,” was soon crackling 
under the red blaze. Over this, the ribs and steaks 
of the bighorn soon sputtered, and the coffee kettle 


28 


THE VALLEY OASIS. 


Steamed, simmered, and bubbled with its brown 
and aromatic contents. Our supper over, one and 
all of us rolled ourselves in our blankets, and were 
soon forgetful of the perils through which we had 



Next morning we arose refreshed, and after break- 
fast a consultation was held as to what course we 
should now take. We would have followed the 
stream, but it appeared to run in a southerly direc- 
tion, and that would not do for us. We wanted to 
go eastward. While we were deliberating upon this, 
an exclamation from the hunter Lincoln drew our 
attention. He was standing in the open ground, at 
some distance out from the willows, and pointing 
southward. We all looked in that direction, and, to 
our great surprise, beheld a pillar of blue smoke 
curling up into the sky, and seeming to rise out of 
the plain. 

“ It must' be Indians ! ” cried me. 

“ I noticed an odd-looking hole in the prairie down 
there,” said Lincoln ; “ I noticed it last night when I 
was up after the bighorn. The smoke we see comes 
out of h ; but there must be a fire where there’s 
smoke, they say ; and there’s somebody about that 
fire, be they Injuns or whites.” 

“ Indians, of course,” rejoined several ; “ who else 
would be found within hundreds of miles of such a 
nlace as this ? Indians they must be.” 


THE VAL1,EY OASIS. 


2d 

A brief consultation was held among us, as to what 
was best to be done. Our fire was at once “ choked 
out,” and our mules and horses brought into the cover 
of the willow thicket. Some proposed that a small 
party of us should go down the stream and recon- 
noitre ; while others advised that we should climb the 
mountain, from which we might get a view of the 
strange p.ace. whence the smoke seemed to proceed. 
This was plainly the best course to adopt, as, in 
case it should fail to satisfy us, we could still follow 
the other plan. Half a dozen of us, therefore, leav- 
ing the others to guard the camp, immediately set 
nut to ascend the mountain. 

We climbed up the ravine, occasionally stopping 
to look out over the plain. We climbed until we 
had reached a considerable elevation. At length we 
caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a deep 
barranca, into which ran the stream ; but we could 
distinguish nothing within it at so great a distance. 
We could see the plain stretching away beyond, 
naked and sterile. On one side only, and that to- 
wards the east, there was a belt of verdure, with 
here and there a solitary tree, or at most two or three 
gro^ying together, slunted-like and shrubby. Run- 
ning in the centre of this belt, we could distinguish 
a line or crack in the plain. This was, no doubt, 
a channel, by which the stream escaped from th« 
barranca. As nothing further could be gained bj 
3 * 


30 


THE VALLEY OASIS. 


remaining upon the mountain, we descended, and 
joined our companions at the camp. 

It was now agreed that a select party should fol- 
low the stream, until we had approached the edge of 
this strange valley, and reconr oitred it with caution. 
Six of us again started, leaving our horses as before. 
We stole silently along, keeping among the willows 
and as near as possible to the banks of the rivulet. 
In this way we travelled about a mile and a half. 
We saw then that we were near to the end of the 
barranca. We could hear a noise like the sound of 
a waterfall. We guessed that it must be a cataract 
formed by the stream, where it leaped into the strange 
ravine that already began to expand before our faces 
We were right in our conjectures, for the next mo- 
ment we crept out upon the edge of a fearful cliff, 
w'here the water, of the rivulet swept over, and fell 
through a height of several hundred feet. 

It was a beautiful sight to look upon, as the long 
jet, curving like the tail of a horse, plunged into the 
foaming pool below; and then, rising with its millions 
of globules of snowy spray, glittered under the sun- 
beam with all the colors of the rainbow. It was, in- 
deed, a beautiful sight ; but our eyes did not dwell 
long upon it, for other objects were before them that 
filled us with wonder. Away below — far below 
where we were — lay a lovely valley, smiling in all 
the luxuriance of bright vegetation. It was of near'y 


THE VALLEY OASIS. 


3J 

an oval shape, bounded upon all sides by a frowning 
precipice, that rose around it like a wall. Its length 
could not have been less than ten miles, and its great- 
est breadth about half of its length. We were at its 
upper end, anJ of course viewed it lengthwise. Along 
the face of the precipice there were trees hanging out 
horizontally, and some oC them even growing with 
their tops downward. These trees were cedars and 
pines ; and we could perceive also the knotted limbs 
of huge cacti protruding from the crevices of the 
rocks. We could see the wild mezcal, or maguey 
plant, growing against the cliff — its scarlet leaves 
contrasting finely with the dark foliage of the cedars 
and cacti. Some of these plants stood out on the 
very brow of the overhanging precipice, and their 
long curving blades gave a singular character to the 
landscape. Along the face of the dark cliffs all was 
rough, and gloomy, and picturesque. How different 
was the scene " below ! Here every thing looked 
soft, and smiling, and beautiful. There were broad 
stretches of woodland, where the thick foliage of the 
trees met and clustered together, so that it looked like 
the surface of the earth itself ; but we knew it was 
only the green leaves, for here and there were spots 
of blighter green, that we saw were glades covered 
with grassy turf. The leaves of the trees were of 
different colors, for it was now late m the autumn. 
Some were yellow and some of a deep claret color 


32 


THE VALLEY OASIS. 


Some were bright red, and some of a beautiful ma 
roon ; and there were green, and brighter green, and 
others of a silvery, whitish hue. All these colors 
were mingled together, and blended into each other, 
like the flowers upon a rich carpet. 

Near the centre of the valley was a large shining 
object, which we knew to be water. It was evi- 
dently a lake of crystal purity, and smooth as a mirror. 
The sun was now up to meridian height, and his 
yellow beams falling upon its surface, caused it to 
gleam like a sheet of gold. We could not trace the 
outlines of the water, — for the trees partially hid it 
from our view, — but we saw that the smoke that had 
at first attracted us rose up somewhere from the 
western shore of the lake. 

We returned to the camp, where we had left our 
companions. It was now agreed that we should ail 
ride down the side of the barranca together, until we 
could find a place to descend into it. It was evident 
some such 'place existed, else how could they have 
got in who had kindled the fire there ? 

V We left the Mexicans in camp with our mules, and 
rU the rest of us, having mounted our horses, rode ofi* 
together. We went by the eastern side, keeping well 
back upon the plain, so that we might not be seeri 
until we discovered what sort of people were in the 
valley. When we had got opposite to where the 
smoke was still curling up, we stopped ; and two of 


THE VALLEY OASIS. 35j 

cs, dismounting, crawled forward to the very edge of 
the precipice. We took care to keep some bushes, 
that grew along the brink, between ourselves and the 
lake. At length we were able to get a good view 
f>f every thing below ; and a very strange sight that 
was — at least it was very strange in such a place, 
where it was so little expected. There was a large 
lake, as I have already stated ; and on its opposite 
%ide, not over a hundred yards from its edge, was a 
fine-looking log house, with other smaller ones stand- 
ing in the rear. There were rail fences all around 
them, and a cleared space divided into fields, some of 
which appeared to be under cultivation, wblle others 
were green and filled with flocks of aninials. The 
whole picture was exactly like a snug farm house, 
with its stables and other outhouses, with its garden 
and fields, and horses and cattle. The dista.nce was 
too great for us to distinguish what sort of cattle they 
were ; but there appeared to be many kinds, both 
red, and black, and speckled. We could see several 
figures of men and boys — four of them in all — 
moving about the enclosures, and there was a woman 
near the door of the house. It was impossible in the 
distance to tell whether they were while people, but 
we never imagined for a moment they could be 
Indians. No Indian could have built such a house as 
that. It seemed to us as thougK we were dreaming, 
to find such a picture in so unexpected a place, and 


34 


THE VALLEY OASIS. 


It was a beautiful picture to our eyes, coming fresh 
as we were from looking upon the barren desert 
The lake was smooth as a mirror; the sun was 
shining upon it ; and we could see upon its farther 
shore several large animals standing up to their 
knees in the water. 

-There were many other striking objects which met 
>ur eyes, but we had no time to dwell upon them, 
and we crawled back again to our companions. 

It was at once agreed that we should go still far- 
ther down, and endeavor to find a road leading »»»vo 
this most singular oasis. We thought we could dis- 
inguish a soil of depression in the' plain near the 
lower end of the valley, and for this point we directed 
our course. After riding a few miles farther, we 
reached the place where the stream issued out in 
an easterly direction. There, sure enough, was the 
very road we were in search of, winding down along 
the bank of the stream, and as if carved out from 
the face of the precipice. It was not much wider 
than the track of a wagon, but was of very easy 
descent. We did not hesitate a moment, but coni’ 
menced riding downward. 


THE STRANGE SETTLEMENT. 


3ft 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE STRANGE SETTLEMENT. 

We weie soon ia the bottom of the valley, where 
sve fallowed a plain track that led along the oanks of 
the rivulet. We knew that that would direct us up to 
the lake, where we should get a view of the house. 
We were astonished at the great variety of trees 
which wt saw in the woods ; but there appeared to 
be almost as great a variety of beautiful birds, that 
fluttered among the leav^ as we rode forward. 

We came at length within sight of the opening in 
which the house and lake were situated. It waf 
prudent to make another reconnoisance before we 
advanced farther ; and two of us, again dismounting, 
stole cautiously forward through a thicket of leafy 
shrubs. The house and all its grounds lay before us. 

It was a log house, — such as are met with in the 
Western States of America, — and well constructed 
There was a garden at one end, and fields on all 
sides. These fields were, as we had supposed, some 
of them under cultivation. We noticed one of them 
with a crop of Indian corn, and another of wheat 


THE STRANGE SETTLEMENT. 




But what most astonished us was the kind of animals 
we saw in the enclosures. One wou.d have thought 
at first sight, that they were the animals usually seen 
arouad an English or American farm house — that 
is to say, horses, cattle, sheep, goats, hogs, and poul- 
try. You may fancy, then, our surprise, when, on 
looking narrowly at them, we could not make out 
a single animal exactly resembling any one of the 
above, with the exception of horses ; and even these 
were unlike the common kind, for they were smaller, 
and spotted all over like hounds ! We knew that they 
were mustangs — the wild horses of the desert. 

We glanced at the animals we had taken for black 
cattle. What were they but buffaloes ! — buffaloes 
penned up in fields, and not heeding the human be- 
ings that passed shouting Smong them. More than 
all, we now saw that two animals yoked to the plough 
were of the same species — a pair of huge buffalo 
buMj ; and they were working with all the quietness 
ani regularity of oxen. 

Another kind of large animals drew our attention, 
still taller than the buffaloes. We saw several of 
them standing quietly in the water of the lake, in 
which their huge bodies and branching horns were 
shadowed as in a mirror. These we knew to be elk 
— the great American elk. We saw several kinds of 
deer, and antelopes with their short, pronged hoi ns, 
and animals that resembled these list in size, b'U 


THE STRANGE SETTLE KENT. 


37 


•vith irnmens<3 curving horns like those of the ram 
and other animals like goats or sheep. We saw some 
without tails, having the appearance of pigs, and oth- 
ers resembling foxes and dogs. We could see fowls 
of different kinds moving about the doors ; and among 
others we distinguished the tall, upright form of the 
wild turkey. The whole picture looked like the col- 
lection of some zoological garden or menagerie. 

Two men were seen — one a tall, white man, with 
a somewhat florid complexion. The other was a 
fbort and very thick-set negro. The latter was by 
the plough. There were two younger men, or lads 
nearly grown. A woman sat by the door, engaged in 
some occupation ; and near her were two little girls, 
no doubt her daughters. 

But the sight which was strangest of all, both to 
my companion and myself, was what appeared in 
front of the house, and around the little porch where 
the woman was sitting. It was a fearful sight to look 
upon. First there were two large, black bears, per- 
fectly loose, and playing with each other ! Then 
there were several smaller animals, that we had al 
first taken for dogs, but that we now recognized, by 
their bushy tails, sharp snouts, and short, erect ears 
to have at least as much of the wolf as dog in them 
They, were of that kind oft(;n met with among the In- 
dians, and might more properly be called dtg wolves, 
han wolf dogs. There were at least half a dozen of. 


4 


HS TH£ STRAJSGE SETTLEMENT 

jiem sauntering about. But the most tearful looking 
of all were two animals of a tawny red color, that lay 
in crouching attitudes within the porch, almost at the 
feet of the woman. Their round, cat-like heads and 
ears, their short, black muzzles, their white throats, ana 
pale, reddish breasts, told us what they were at a glance. 

“ Panthers ! ” ejaculated my companion, drawing a 
.ong breath, and looking at me with a puzzled air. 
Yes, they were panthers, — so called by the hunters, 
but more properly cougars, — the felts concolor of the 
naturalists — the lion of America. 

In the midst of all these fierce creatures, the two 
young girls were moving about, apparently uncon- 
cerned at their presence, while the animals appeared 
equally unconcerned about them. The whole scene 
reminded us of the fanciful pictures we had seen of 
that time promised in the sacred book, when “ all 
the earth shall be at peace, and the lion shall lie 
down with the lamb.” 

We did not stop to see more. We were satisfied, 
and went back for our companions. In five minutes 
after, the whole of us entered the clearing, and rode 
up to the house. Our sudden appearance producea 
consternation on all sides. The men shouted to each 
other — the horses neighed — the dogs howled and 
barked hoarsely — and the fowls mingled their voices 
in the clamor. We were taken, no doubt, for a 
party of Indians ; but we were not long in making 


THB STRANGE SETTLEMENT. 

it understood who and what we were As sron as 
our explanations were given, the white man invited 
is, in the politest manner, to alight, and partake ol 
his hospitality. At the same time, he gave orders for 
our dinners to be prepared ; and, desiring us to lead 
our horses into one of the enclosures, he commenced 
throwing corn into a large wooden trough. In this 
he was assisted by the negro, who was his servant, 
and the two young lads, who appeared to be his song. 

As yet we had not ceased to wonder. Every 
thing around us was strange and inexplicable. The 
animals, which none of us had ever seen, except 
in their wild state, were as tame and gentle as 
farm cattle ; and we noicted some new species at 
every turn. There were strange phntn, too, growing 
in the fields and garden, and v’nes trained upon 
espaliers, and corn cribs filled with yellow corn, and 
dove cots, and martin boxes, with swallows twitter- 
ing around them. All formed a curious but pleasing 
picture. 

We had sauntered about for an hour, when we 
were summoned to dinner. 

“ Follow me, gentlemen,” said our host, as he led 
the way to the house. We entered, and seated 
ourselves around a good-sized table, upon which 
smoked several savory and inviting dishes. Some 
of these we recognized a? old acquaintances, while 
others were new to us. W'' Puind venison steaks 


40 


•ItlV'U STRANGE SETTLEMENT. 


With buffalo tongues and hump ribs — the dainties^ 
portions of that animal. There were fresh-cooked 
A)wls, and eggs of the wild turkey boiled and dressed 
in omelets. There were bread and butter, and 
milk, and rich cheese, all set out to tempt our 
appetites, that, to say the truth, just at that time did 
not require much coaxing to do justice to the viands 
before us. We were all quite hungry, for we had 
eaten nothing since morning. A large kettle sim- 
mered by the fire. “ What could it contain ? ” thought 
we ; “ surely not tea or coffee.” In a short time we 
were satisfied on this head. Bowls were placed 
before us ; and into these the hot liquid was poured 
which we found to be a very palatable as well as 
wholesome beverage — the tea of the sassafras root. 
It was sweetened by maple sugar ; and each helped 
himself to cream to his own liking. We had all 
tasted such tea before, and many of our party liked 
it as well as the tea of China. 

While we continued to eat, we could not help 
noticing the strangeness of every thing around us. 
All the articles of furniture were of unique and rude 
d ascription; and it was plain that most of them had 
been manufactured upon the spot. The vessels were 
of several sorts and of different materials. There 
were cups and dishes, and bowls cut out of shells of the 
gourd or calabash ; and there were spoons anc) ladles 
of the same material. There were wooden platters 


olLA^Crl SETTLEMENl 


4J 


and trays carved and scooped out of the schd tree. 
A.nd more numerous were the vessels of red pottery 
of different shapes and for different uses. Of these 
there were large pots for cooking, and jars for holding 
water, and jugs of various dimensions. 

The chairs, too, were all of rude construction, but 
admirably adapted to their purpose. Most of them 
were covered with raw hide seats, which stretched up 
the back in a slanting line, and thus rendered them 
firm and commodious. A few lighter ones, evi- 
dently intended as the furniture of the inner rooms, — 
.'here were but two in the house, — had bottoms woven 
out of the leaves of the palmetto. 

There was very little attempt at ornament upon 
the walls — if we except some curiosities that were 
placed there, all of which were evidently the produc- 
tions of the valley itself. There were stuffed birds, of 
rare and bright plumage, and huge horns of animals, 
with two or three shells of the land tortoise, carefully 
polished. There were no mirrors nor pictures, and 
not a book to be seen, except one ; that was a 
medium-sized volume, placed on a small table by 
itself, and evidently preserved with great care, as it 
had been neatly and elaborately bound in the skin of 
a young antelope. I had the curiosity to open this 
book, shortly after entering. I read upon the title 
page the words, “ Holy Bible.” This circumstance 
increased the 'nterest I already felt in our host and 
4 * D 


42 


THB STRANGE SETTi ’VISNT. 


nis family ; and I sat down with feelings of conti* 
dence, for I knew that even in tins remote place w« 
were enjoying the hospitality of a Christian. 

During the meal, our host with his family were 
present. We had seen them all on our arrival, for 
/.ley had run forward to greet and welcome us; hut 
we became puzzled as we listened to the conversation 
of the children. We heard with surprise that we 
were the first white men they had seen for a period 
of nearly ten years. They were all beautiful children 
— robust, and full of life and animation. There 
were two boys — Frank and Harry, so their mother 
called them; and two girls. Of the girls, one was 
of a very dark complexion — in fact, quite a brunette, 
and with a Spanish expression of face. The other 
was as fair as her sister was dark. The fair one was 
a beautiful little creature, with flowing, yelk)w hair, 
and deep blue eyes, with long, dark lashes. Her 
name was Mary. That of the sister was Luisa. 
They were both very pretty, but very unlike each 
other; and, what was odd to me, they appeared to be 
about the same age and size. The hoys were also 
of like size, though both much elder than their sisters. 
They appeared to be seventeen or more, but I could 
not have guessed which was the elder. Harry, with 
his fair, curling hair, and red, manly face, bore a 
strong resemblance to his father; while the othef 
was darker, and a together more like the mother 


THE STRANGE SE'^TLEMENT. 


43 


She herself did not appear to be much over thirty- 
five years of age, and was still a beautiful and 
evidently a light-hearted woman. 

Our host was a man of about forty — a tall, well 
formed man, with light, ruddy complexion, and hait 
that had been fair and curling, but was now some- 
what gray. He had neither beard nor whiskers; 
but, on the contrary, his chin bore evidence that he 
had freshly shaved himself that very day ; and his 
whole appearance was that of a man who regu 
lar’y attended to the duties of the toilet. There was 
also about him a gentleman-like bearing; and his 
address and conversation soon convinced all of us 
that we were in the company of an educated man. 

The dress of the whole family was peculiar. The 
man himself wore a hunting shirt and leggings of 
tanned deer skin, and not unlike that of our own 
hunters. The boys were similarly attired, but we 
could see that they had a sort of homespun linen 
garment underneath. The female part of the family 
were dressed in clothes, part of which were of the 
same homespun, and part of a fine skin, that of the 
fawn, dressed to the softness of a glove. Several 
hats were lying about; and we noticed that they 
were cunously fabricated from the leaves of the 
palmetto. 

While we were eating, th(5 negro appeared at the 
•^or, and, looking in, eyed us with glances of ex 


44 


THE STRANGE SETTLEMEN-r. 


treme curiosity. He was a short, stout man, blick 
as jet, and apparently about forty years old. His 
head was covered with a thick crop of small curls, 
that appeared to form an even surface, making the 
outline of the skull as round as a ball. His teeth 
were very large and white, and any thing but fierce 
— as he showed them only when he smiled, and that 
he did almost continually. There was something 
very pleasing in the expression of his rich black 
eyes, which were never at rest, but kept always 
rolling on both sides of his flat and expanded nose. 

“Cudjo, drive out these animals,” said the woman, 
or rather lady, we should call her — for she was 
evidently entitled to be so styled. Her command, 
or more properly request, — for she had made it in 
that tone, — was obeyed with alacrity. Cudjo leaped 
into tne floor, and, after a short while, succeeded in- 
turning out the wolf dogs, and panthers, and other 
strange animals, that up to this time had been snarl- 
ing at each other, among our feet, to the no small 
terror of several of our party. 

AH these things were so strange, that we watched 
them with interest and curiosity. At length our meal 
was ended ; and as we were most anxious to have 
every thing explained to us, we signified this desire 
to our host. 

“ Wait until night,” said he. “ Around the cheer- 
ful log fire I will tell you my story. Meanwhile, you 


THE STRANGE SETTLEMENT. 


45 


all n<ied other refreshment than eating. Come to he 
ako, then, and take a bath. The sun is high and 
warm. A bath will refresh you, after your dusty 
travel.” 

So saying, he stepped out of the cottage, and pro* 
ceedod towards the lake, followed by all of our party. 
A few minutes after, we were refreshing ourselves in 
Jie crystal water. 

During the remainder of the day, we occupied ^u^* 
8elv< s at different employments. Some went back to 
the mountain foot for the mules and Mexicans ; while 
the rest of us strolled about the house and grounds, 
every now and then stumbling upon some new object 
of wonder. 

We were impatient for the coming of night, for we 
were wound up to a pitch of extreme curiosity, and 
longed for an explanation of what we saw around us. 

Night came at length ; and, after an excellent sup- 
per, we all sat around the cheerful fire, to listen tc 
the strange history of Robert Rolfe — for that was he 
name of our host. 


aOLIK’S EARLY HISTORY 


IH 


CHAPTER V. 

ROLFE’S EARLY HISTORY. 

“ Brothers,” began he, “ I am of your own race 
although 1 am not an American. I am an English- 
man. I was born in the south of that country, some- 
thing more than forty years ago. My father was a 
yoeman — an independent, or, as he was sometimes 
styled, a gentleman farmer. Unfortunately, he was 
a man of too much ambition for his class. He was 
determined that I, his only son, should be a gentleman, 
in the ordinary sense of the word ; that is, that I 
should be educated in all those expensive habits and 
accomplishments which are sure to lead men of mod- 
erate fortune along the direct road to ruin This was 
not wise of my father; but it would not be grateful 
in me to reflect upon a fault that consisted in his too 
great fondness for myself. I believe it was the onlj 
fault which my good, kind father was ever charged 
with. Beyond this somewhat foolish ambition, his 
character was without reproach among men. 

“ I was sent to those schools where I should meet 
ho scions )f the arls^ocracv I was taught to daiK*© 


ROLFK S EARLY HISTORY. 


40 


to ride, and to play. I was allowed spending money 
at will ; and could call for champagne, and drink it 
with any of my companions. At the end of my col- 
lege life, I was sent upon my travels. I made the 
tour of the Rhine of France, and Italy ; and tfier 
some years spent in this way, I returned to England 

sent for, to be present at the death of my father. 

“ I was now sole heir to his property, which was by 
nc means inconsiderable for a man of his class. 1 
soon reduced it in bulk. I must needs live in Lon- 
don, where I could enjoy the company of many of 
my old school and college companions. I wais wel- 
come amongst them while my purse held out; for 
many of them were needy men — lawyers without 
oriefs, and officers vvith nothing to live upon but their 
Day. Of course, such men are fond of play. They 
have nothing to lose, and all to win ; and it was but a 
short year or two, until they had won from me the 
best part of my patrimonial property. I was on the 
eve of becoming a bankrupt. But one thing saved 
me — she saved me ! ” 

Here our host pointed to his wife, who sat sur- 
rounded by her family at one side of the great fire- 
place. The lady held down her '’iyes and smiled , 
while the children, who had been hsi'^ning attentively, 
all turned towards her with looks if .nterest. 

“ Yes,” continued he, “ Mary S'-' ed me. We had 
been playmates together in ear)ir>r life ; and at this 


48 


ROLfE's EARLY HISTORY. 


lime we again met. We felt an affection for each 
other. It ended in our getting married. 

“ Fortunately, my dissipated life had not destroyed, 
as it often does with men, all my virtuous principles. 
Many of these, that had been early instilled into my 
mind by the teachings of a good mother, still re- 
mained fixed and true. 

“ As soon as we were married, I resolved to change 
altogether my mode of life. But this is not so easily 
done as men imagine. Once you are surrounded 
by associates, such as mine were — once you are 
plunged into debts and obligations — it requires both 
courage and virtuous determination to meet and dis 
charge them. It requires a terrible effort to free 
one’s self from evil companions, whose interest it is 
that you should still remain as profligate as them- 
selves. But I was resolved ; and, thanks to the 
counsels of my Mary, I succeeded in carrying out my 
resolve. 

“ To pay my debts, I was compelled to sell the 
property left me by my father. This done, and every 
bill discharged, I found myself vorth only five hun- 
dred pounds. 

“ My little wife, there, had brought me the sum of 
twenty-five hundred ; and this still left us three thou 
sand pounds with which to begin the world. Three 
thousand pounds is not much to live upon in Eng- 
land — that is, among the class of people with whom 


nOLhis. S EARLr HISTORY. 


49 


had hitherto associated ; and after spending several 
years in trying to increase it, I found that it was 
every day growing less. I found, after three years 
engaged in farming, that my three thousand pounds 
was only worth two. I was told that this sum would 
go much further in America ; that it would pur- 
chase me d fine home ; and, with thoughts of pro- 
♦ iQing well for my family, I embarked with my wife 
and children for New York. 

“ There I found the very man whom I wanted — 
that was, some one to advise me how to begin life 
in the new world. My predilections were in favor 
of agriculture ; and these were encouraged by the 
advice of him whom I had met. He told me that it 
would be unwise for me to lay out my' money upon 
new or uncleared land ; as, with my want of ex- 
perience as a farmer, I would have to pay more for 
clearing it of its timber than the land would be 
worth. ‘ It would be better for you,’ continued my 
new acquaintance, ‘ to buy a tract already cleared 
and fenced, with a good house upon it, where you 
will be at home at once.’ 

“ I admitted the truth of all this reasoning ; but 
w )uld my money bo sufficient for this } ‘ O, yes,* 

answered he ; and then he told me that he ‘ knew 
of a farm in the State of Virginia’ — a plantation, 
as he called it, that would suit me exactly. It could 
be purchased for five hundred pounds. With the 


50 


ROLni’s EARiY HISTORY- 


remainder of my money, I should be able to slocK 
it handsomely. 

“ After some further conversation, I found that the 
plantation belonged to himself. ‘ So much the better,’ 
thought I ; and in the end I bought it from him, and 
aet out immediately after for my new homo.” 


THE yriRGINU PLANTA'flOH. 


51 


CHAPTER VI 

THE VIRGINIA PLANTATION 

“ I FOUND the farm every thing he had described 
It — a large plantation, with a good wooden house, 
and well-enclosed fields. I immediately set about 
‘ stocking ’ it with my remaining cash. What was 
my surprise to find that I must spend the greatei 
part of this in buying men ! Yes ; there was no 
alternative. There were no laborers to be had in 
the place, except such as were slaves ; and these I 
must either buy for myself, or hire from their mas- 
ters, which, in point of morality, amounted to the 
same thing. 

“ Thinking that I might treat them with at least 
as much humanity as they appeared to receive from 
others, I chose the former course ; and purchasing a 
number of blacks, both men and women, I began life 
as a planter. After such a bargain as that, I did not . 
deserve to prosper ; and I did not prosper, as you 
«hall see. 

' * My first crop failed ; in fact, it scarce returned 

me the seed. The second was still worse ; and to 


THE VIRGINIA PLANTATION. 

my mortification, I now ascertained the cause of the 
failure. I had come into possession of a ‘ worn out 
farm. The land looke'd well, and, on sight, you 
would have called it a fertile tract. When I first 
saw it myself, I was delighted with my purchase, 
which seemed, indeed, a great bargain for the smali 
sum of money I had paid. But appearances are 
often deceptive ; and never was there x greater de 
ception than my beautiful plantation in Virginia. It 
was utterly worthless. It had been cropped for 
many years with maize, and cotton, and tobacco 
These had been regularly carried off the land., and 
not a stalk or blade suffered to return to the soil. 
As a natural fact,- known to almost every one, the 
vegetable or organic matter will thus in time become 
exhausted, and nothing will remain but inorganic or 
purely mineral substances, which of themselves can- 
not nourish vegetation, and of course can give no 
crop. This is the reason why manure is spread upon 
land the manure consisting of substances that are 
for the most part organic, and containing the principles 
of life and vegetation. Of course, gentlemen, thesei 
things are known lo you ; but you will pardon my 
digression, as my children are listening to me, and 1 
never lose an opportunity of instructing them in facta 
that may hereafter be useful to them. 

“ Well, as I have said, I had no crops, or rathei 
very bad ones, for the first and second years On 


THE VIRGINIA PLANTATION. 


53 


iiie third it was, if possible, still worse ; and on the 
fourth and fifth no better than ever. I need hardlj 
add that by this time I was ruined, or very nearly so. 
The expense of feeding and clothing my poor negroes 
had brought me in debt to a considerable amount. 1 
could not have lived longer on my worthless planta 
tion, even had I desired it. I was compelled, iu 
order to pay my debts, to sell out every thing — farm, 
cattle, and negroes. No, I did not sell all. Thert 
was one heftiest fellow, to whom both Mary and I hat 
^come attached. I was resolved not to sell hin. 
into slavery. He had served us faithfully. It was h« 
who first told me how I had been tricked ; and, sym* 
pathizing in my misfortune, he endeavored, both by 
industry on his own part, and by encouraging his 
fellow-laborers, to make the ungrateful soil yield me 
a return. His efforts had been vain, but I determined 
to repay him for his rude but honest friendship. 1 
gave him his liborty. He would not accept it. He 
would not part from us. He is there ! ” 

As the narrator said this, he pointed to Cudjo, 
who stood hanging by the door post ; and, delighted 
at these compliments which were being paid him, 
WBLS showing his white teeth in a broad and affec- 
tionate smile. 

Rolfe continued ; — 

“ When the sale was completed, and the account 
aettled, I found that I had just five hundred pound? 

5 * 


t»> THE VIRGINIA PLANTATION. 

N. 

left 1 had now some experience in farming ; and * 
.esolved to move out to the west — into the great 
Valley of the Mississippi. I knew that there my five 
hundred pounds would still set me up again in a 
farm as big as I wanted, where the 'timber was suJ 
growing upon it. 

“ Just at this time my eye fell upon some flaming 
advertisements in the newspapers, about a new city 
which was then being built at the junction of the Ohio 
and Mississippi Rivers. It was called ‘ Cairo,’ and , 
as it was situated on the fork between two of the 
largest and most navigable rivers in the world, i 
could not fail in a few years to become, one of the 
largest cities in the world. So said the advertise- 
ment. There were maps of the new city every where, 
and on these were represented theatres, and banks, 
and court houses, and churches of different religious 
denominations. There were lots offered for sale, 
and, along with these, small tracts of land adjoining 
the town, so that the inhabitants might combine the 
occupations of merchant and agriculturist. ‘ These 
!ots were offered very cheap,’ thought I; and I did 
not rest, night nor day, until I had purchased one of 
them, and also a small farm in the adjacent country. 

“ Almost as soon as I had made the purchase, I 
*et out to taKe possession. Of course, I took with me 
my wife and children. I had now three — the two 
eldest being twins, and about nine years old. I did 


THE VIRGINIA PLANTATION. 


5c 


not intend to return to Virginia any more. Our 
faithful Cudjo accompanied us to our far western 
home. 

“ It was a severe journey, but not so severe as the 
tria. that awaited us on our arrival at ‘ Cairo.’ As 
soon as I came within sight of the place, I saw, to 
use an expressive phrase, that I had been ‘ sold ’ 
again. There was but one house, and that stood 
upon the only ground that was not a swamp. Nearly 
the whole site of the proposed city was under water, 
and the part not wholly inundated consisted of a dark 
morass, covered with trees and tall reeds! There 
were no theatres, no churches, no court house, no 
banks, nor any likelihood there ever would be any, 
except such as might be built to keep back the water 
from the only house in the place — a sort of roug j 
hotel, filled with swearing boatmen. 

“ I had landed, of course ; and, after putting up at 
the hotel, proceeded in search of my ‘ property.’ I 
found my town lot in n marsh, which took me over 
the ankles in mud. As for my farm, was com* 
pelled to get a boat to visit it ; and aftei sailing afi 
over it without being able to touch bottom 1 returned 
io the hotel, heartless and disgusted. 

“ By the next steamboat that came along, I em- 
barked for St. Louis, where I sold both lot and farm 
for a mere trifle. 

‘ I need not say that I was mortified at all this 


56 


THE VIRGINIA PLANTATION. 


I was almost heart-broken when I leflected on my 
repeated failures, and thought of my young wife and 
children. I could have bitterly cursed both America 
and the Americans, had that been of any use ; and 
yet such a thing would have been as unjust as im- 
moral. It is true, I had been twice outrageously swin- 
dled ; but the same thing had happened to me in my 
own country, and I had suffered in the same way by 
those who professed to be my friends. There are 
bad men in every country — men willing to take 
advantage of generosity and inexperience. It does 
not follow that all are so, and we hope far less than 
the half; for it must be remembered that the bad 
points of one country are more certain to be heard of 
in another than its good ones. When I look to the 
schemes and speculations which have been got up in 
England, and which have enriched a few accom- 
plished rogues, by the ruin of thousands of honest 
men, I cannot, as an Englishman, accuse our Amer- 
ican cousins of being greater swindlers than ourselves. 
It is true, I have been deceived by them ; but it was 
from the want of proper judgment in myself, arising 
from a foolish and ill-directed education. I should 
have been equally ill treated in the purchase of a 
horse at Tattersall’s, or a pound of tea in Piccadilly 
had I been -equally unacquainted with the value of 
the articles. We both, as nations, have erred. Nei 
her of us can, with grace, cast '. sto~e at the other 


THE VlIiGINIA PLANTATION. ft*? 

and as for myself, why, look there ! ” said Rolfe, 
imiling, and pointing to his family, “ two of my 
children only are Englishmen; the others are little 
Yankees. Almost every Englishman can say some- 
thing similar. Whv then should we sow jealcusf 
between them ^ 


58 


THE CARAVAN AND ITS FATE. 


CHAPTER VIT 

THE CABAVAN AND ITS FATE. 

OiTR hwt continued:— 

“ Well, my friends, I was in St. Louis. I had noi» 
left out of my three thousand pounds not quite a 
hundred ; and this would soon melt away, should I 

P 

remain idle. What was I to do ? 

“There happened to be a young Scotchman at 
the hotel where I had put up. He was, like myself, 
a stranger in St. Louis ; and being from the ‘ old 
country,’ we soon became acquainted, and, very 
naturally under the circumstances, shared each 
other’s confidence. I told him of my blunders in 
Virginia and Cairo, and I believe that he really felt 
sympathy for me. In return, he detailed to me 
part of his past history, and also his plans for the 
future. He had been for several years employed 
in a copper mine, away near the centre of the Great 
American Desert, in the mountains called Los Mim- 
bres, that lie west of the Del Norte River. 

“ I'hey are a wonderful people, these same Scotch. 
Fhey are but a small nation, yet their infiuence ii 


THE CARAVAN AND ITS FATE. 

feU every where upon the globe. Go where you 
will, you will find them in positions of trust and 
importance ; always prospering, yet, in the midst of 
prosperiiy, still remembering, with strong feelings 
of attachment, the land of their birth. They man- 
age the marts of London — the commerce cf India 
— the fur trade of America, — and the mines of 
Mexico. Over all the American wilderness you wil 
meet them, side by side with the backwoods pionee/ 
himself, and even pushing him from his own ground. 
From the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic Sea, they 
have impressed with their Gaelic names rock, river, 
and mountain ; and many an Indian tribe owns a 
Scotchman for its chief. I say, again, they are a 
wonderful people. 

“ Well, my St. Louis Scotchman had come from 
his mine upon a visit of business to the United 
States, and was now on h:s return by St. Louis and 
Santa Fe. His wife was along with him — a fine- 
looking young Mexican woman, with only one child. 
He was waiting for a small caravan of Spanish peo- 
pie, who were about to start for New Mexico. With 
these he intended to travel, so as to be in safety 
from the Indians along the route. 

“ As soon as he understood my situation, he 
advised me to accompany him — offering me a iu- 
cratlwe situation in the mine, of which he was the 
tole manager. 


(50 


THE CARAVAN AND ITS F iTE. 


“ Disgusted as I then was with the treatmem 
I had received in the United States, I embraced 
his proposal with alacrity ; and, under his super 
intendence, I set about making preparations for the 
long journey that lay before us. The money I had 
left enabled me to equip myself in a tolerable 
manner. I bought a wagon and two pair of stout 
oxen. This was to carry my wife and children, 
with such furniture and provisions as would be 
necessary on the journey. I had no need to hire a 
teamster, as our faithful Cudjo was to accompany 
us ; and I knew there was no better hand to manage 
a team of oxen than Cudjo. For myself, I purchased 
a horse, a rifle, with all the paraphernalia that are 
required by those who cross the great prairies. My 
boys, Harry and Frank, had also a small rifle each, 
which we had brought with us from Virginia ; and 
Harry was very proud of the manner in which he 
could handle his. 

“ Every thing being prepared, we bade adieu to St. 
Louis, and set forth upon the wild prairies. 

“ Ours was but a small caravan, as the large one 
which crosses annually to Santa Fe had taken its 
departure some weeks before. There were about 
twenty men of us, and less than half that number of 
wagons. The men were nearly all Mexicans, who 
had been to the United States to procure some pieces 
of cannon, for which they had been sent by the 


THE CARAVAN AND ITS FATE. 


61 


go>«rnor of t:5anta Fe. They had the cannon along 
with them — two brass howitzers, with their carriages 
and caissons. 

“ My friends, I need not tell you the various inci- 
dents that befell us, in crossing the great plains and 
rivers that lie between St. Louis and Santa Fe. 
Upon the plains we fell in with the Pawnees; and 
near the crossing of the Arkansas, we encountered a 
small tribe of Cheyennes ; but neither of these bands 
offered us any molestation. When we were nearly 
two months on our journey, the party left the usual 
trail taken by the traders, and struck across to one 
of the head tributaries of the Canadian River. This 
they did to avoid meeting the Arapahoes, who were 
hostile to the Mexican people. We kept down 
the banks of this stream as far as the Canadian 
itself ; and then, turning w'estward, travelled up the 
latter. We travelled upon the right or southern 
bank, for we had forded the Canadian on reaching it. 

“ It soon ' became apparent that we had got into 
a very rough and difficult country. It was the morn- 
mg of the second day, after we had turned westwaid 
up the Canadian River. We were making but slew 
progress, as the trail we had to follow was inter 
sected at frequent interval with buffalo roads running 
into the river from the south. Many of these were 
deep ditches, although quite dry ; and, every now 
and then, we were compelled to stop the whole tram 
6 


62 


THE CARAVAN AND ITS FATE. 


until we levelled in the banks, and made a road foi 
the wagons to pass. 

“ In crossing one of these ruts, the tongue of m} 
wagon was broken ; and Cudjo and I, having loosed 
out the oxen, set abaut splicing it the best way we 
could. The rest of the train was ahead of us, and 
kept moving on. My friend, the young Scotchman, 
seeing that we had stopped, came galloping back, 
and offered to remain and assist us. I declined 
his offer, telling him to move on with the rest, 
as I would easily overtake them • at all events, I 
would get up, whenever they halted for their nigOk 
camp. It was not unfrequent for a single wagon, 
with its attendants, thus to stay behind the rest to 
make some repairs. When it did not come up to the 
night encampment, a party would go back early the 
next morning to ascertain the cause of the delay. 
For several years before the time I am telling you 
about, there had been no trouble with the Indians in 
crossing the prairies ; and consequently the people of 
the caravans had grown less cautious. Besides, we 
were then in a part of the country where Indians had 
been seldom seen, as it was an extremely desert 
place, without grass or game of any description. On 
this account, and knowing that Cudjo was an excel 
lent caipenter, I had no fears but that I could be up 
with the others before night. So, by niy persuasion, 
tlie young Scotchman left me, and rode on to look 
after his own wagons. 


THE CARAVAN AND ITS FATE. (>3 

After about an hour’s hammering and spliijing, 
Cudjo and I got the tongue all right again ; and, 
* hitching up’ the oxen, we drove on after our com- 
panions. We had not gone a mile, when the shoeing 
of one of the wheels — that had shrunk from the 
extreme dryness of the atmosphere — rolled off, and 
the fellies came very near flying asunder. Wo 
weio luckily ab.e to prevent this, by suddenly stop* 
ping, and setting a prop under the body of the wagon, 
This, as you may perceive, was a much more serious 
accident than the breaking of the tongue ; and at 
fii-st I thought of galloping forward, and asking some 
of our companions to come back to my assistance. 
But in consequence of my inexperience upon the 
prairies, I knew that I had given them considerable 
trouble alpng the route, at which some of the'm had 
murmured, — being Mexicans, — and in one or two 
instances had refused to assist me. I might bring 
back the young Scotchman, it \^as true, but — ‘ Come ! ’ 
t rind I, ‘ it is not yet as bad as Cairo. Come, Cudjo ’ 
we shall do it ourselves, and be indebted to no one.’ 

“ ‘ Dat’s right, Massa Roff ! ’ replied Cudjo ; ‘ ebery 
man put him own shoulder to him own wheel, else 
de wheel no run good.’ 

‘•And so the brave fellow and 1 stripped oflT oui 
coats, and set to work in earnest. My dear Mary 
nero, who had been brought up a delicate lady, but 
could suit herself gracefully to every situat on, helped 


64 


THE CARAVAN AND IT^ FATE. 


US all she could, cheering us every now and then 
wilh an allusion to Cairo, and our farm under the 
water. It has always a comforting elfect to persons 
in situations of difficulty, to reflect that they migh 
itili be worse off ; and such reflections will often prop 
up the drooping spirits, and lead to success in con- 
quering the difficulty. ‘ Never give up ’ is a good old 
motto, and Goa will help them who show perseverance 
and energy. 

“ So did it happen with us. By dint of wedging 
and hammering, we succeeded in binding the wheel 
as fast 'as ever; but it was near night before we had 
finished the job. When we had got it upon the axle 
again, and were ready for the road, we saw, with 
some apprehension, that the sun was setting. We 
knew we could not travel by night, not knowing what 
road to take ; and, as we were close to water, we 
resolved to stay where we were until morning. 

“ We were up before day, and having cooked and 
eaten our breakfasts, moved forward upon the track 
made by the caravan. We wondered that none of 
our companions had come back during the night. — 
as this is usual in such cases, — but we expected 
every moment to meet some of them returning to 
look after us. We travelled on, however, until noon, 
and still none of them appeared. We could see 
before us a rough tract of country, with rocky hills 
and some trees growing in the valleys ; and the trail 
we were following evidently led among these. 


TR.l CARAVAN AND ITS FATE. 6& 

As v^e pushed forward, we heard among the hills 
A loud, crashing report, like the bursting of a bomb- 
shell. What could it mean ? We knew there were 
some shells along with the howitzers. Were oui 
comrades attacked by Indians ? and was it one of the 
cannon they had fired upon them } No ; that could 
not be There was but one report, and I knew that 
the discharge of a shell from a howitzer must give 
two — that which accompanies the discharge, and 
then the bursting of the bomb itself. Could one of 
the shells have burst by accident ? That was more 
ikely ; and we halted, and listened for further sounds. 
We stopped for nearly half an hour, but could hear 
nothing, and we then moved on again. We were 
filled with apprehension — less from the report we 
had heard than from the fact that none of the men 
had come back to see what delayed us. We still 
followed the track of the wagons. We saw that they 
must have made a long march on the preceding day, 
for it was near sunset when we entered among the 
hills, and as yet we had not reached their camp of 
the night before. '^At length we came in sight of it ; 
and, O horror, what a sight! My blood runs cold 
when I recall it to my memory. There were the 
wagons - — most of them with their tilts torn off, and 
part of their contents scattered over the ground. 
There were the cannons, too, with fires smouldering 
near them, but not a human being was in sight 
6 * 


F 


d6 THE CABAVAN AND ITS FATE. 

Yes, there were human beings — dead men, lying 
over the ground ; and living things, — wolves they 
were, — -growling, and quarrelling, and tearing the 
flesh from their bodies. Some of the animals that 
had belonged to the caravan were also prostrate — 
dead horses, mules, and oxen. The others were net 
to bo seen. 

“We were all horror struck at the sight. We saw 
at once that our companions had been attacked and 
slaughtered by some band of savage Indians. We 
would have retreated, but it was now too late, for we 
were close in to the camp before we had seen it. 
Had the savages still been upon the ground, retreat 
would be of no avail. But I knew that they must 
have been gone some time, from the havoc the wolves 
had made in their absence. 

“ I left my wife by our wagon, where Harry and 
Frank remained with their little rifles ready to guard 
her, and along with Cudjo I went forward to view the 
bloody scene. We chased the wolves frOm their 
repast. There was a pack of more than fifty of 
these hideous animals, and they only ran a short 
distance from us. On reaching the ground, we saw 
that the bodies were those of our late comrades, but 
they were all so mutilated that we could not dis- 
linguish a single one of them. They had everj’^ one 
been scalped by the Indians ; and it was fearful to 
look upon them as they lay. I saw the fragments 


THE CARaVAN and ITSs FATE. 67 

of one of the shells that had burst in the middle of 
the camp, and had torn two or three of the wpgona 
to pieces. There had not been many articles of 
merchandise in the wagons, as it was not a traders’ 
caravan ; but such things as they carried, that could 
be of any value to the Indians, had been taken away 
The other articles, most of them heavy and cumber 
some things, were lying over the ground, some of 
them broken. It was evident the savages had gone 
off in a hurry. Perhaps they had been frightened b) 
the bursting of the shell, not knowing what it was 
and from its terrible effects, — which they no doubt 
witnessed and felt, — believing it to be the doing of 
the Great Spirit. 

“ I looked on all sides for my friend, the young 
Scotchman, but I could not distinguish his body from 
the rest. I looked around, too, for his wife — who 
wa« the only woman besides Mary that accompanied 
the caravan. Her body was not to be seen. ‘ No 
doubt,’ said I to Cudjo, ‘ the savages have carried 
her off alive.’ At this moment, we heard the howls 
E.nd hoarse worrying of dogs, with the fiercer snarl* 
mg of wolves, as though the dogs were battling with 
these animals. The noises came from a thicket near 
the samp. We knew that the miner had brought 
with him two large dogs from St. Louis. It must be 
they. We ran in the direction of the thicket, and 
dashed in among the bushes. Guided by the noises 


5 ^ 


THE CARAVAN AND ITS PATE. 


we kept on, and soon came in sight of the object* 
that had attracted us. Two large dogs, foaming, and 
.orn, and covered with blood, were battling against 
several wolves, and keeping them off from some dark 
objeef; that lay among the leaves. We saw that the 
dark object was a woman, and, clinging around her 
aeck, and screaming with terror, was a beautiful 
^hild ! At a glance, we saw that the woman was 
dead, and — ” 

Here the narrative of our host was suddenly inter- ' 
rupted. M‘ Knight, the miner, who was one of our 

party, and who had appeared laboring under some 
excitement during the whole of the recital, suddenly 
sprang to his feet, exclaiming, — 

“ O God ! mv wife — my poor wife ! O, Rolfe ! 
Rolfel do you not know me.?” 

“ M‘Knight ! ” cried Rolfe, springing up with an 
air of astonishment — “M‘ Knight! it is he indeed!’ 

“ My wife ! my poor wife ! ” continued the miner, 
in accents of sorrow. “ I knew they had killed ' her. 

I saw her remains afterwards ; but my child .? O, 
Rolfe ! what of my child .? ” 

‘‘She is Mere.'” said our host, pointing to the 
darkest of the two girls, and the next momer't the 
miner had lifted the little Luisa in his arms, ana 
was covering her with his kisses. He was hei 
father 1 











nrE miner’s story. 


69 


CHAPTER Vin. 

THE MINER’S STORY 

It would hii very difficult, my young readers, to 
describe to you the scene which followed this unex- 
pected recognition. The family had all risen to their 
feet, and with cries and tears in their eyes clung 
around the little Luisa, as though they were about tb 
lose her forever. And, indeed, it is likely that an 
indistinct thought of this kind had flitted across their 
minds, when they saw that she was no longer their 
sister — for they had almost forgotten that she was 
not so, and they loved her as well as if she was. 
Up to this time, none of them had thought of her in 
any other way than as a sister ; and Harry, with 
whom she was a great favorite, used- to call her his 
“ dark sister ; ” while the younger, Mary, was kno-^ai 
as the fair ” one. 

In the midst of the group stood the little, brunette, 
like the rest, overwhelmed with singular emotions, 
but calmer, and apparently more mistress of her 
feelings than any of them. 

The traders and hunters were all upon their fee’ 


70 


THE MINER'S STUnV. 


congratulating M‘Knighi on the happ)^ event; whil« 
each of them shook hands with our host and his wife, 
whon. tiiey now remembered having heard of, as 
well as the story of the massacre. Old Cudjo leaped 
over the floor, whipping the panthers and wolf dogs, 
and cutting various capers, while the very animals 
themselves howled with a sort of fierce joy. Oui 
host went into an inner apartment of the cabin, and 
presently returned with a large jar of brown earthen 
ware. Cups cut out of the calabash were set upor 
the table ; and into these a red liquid was poured 
from the jar, and we were all invited to drink. What 
was our surprise, on tasting the beverage, to find that 
it was wine — wine in the middle of the desert ! 
But it was so — excellent wine — home made, as our 
host informed us — pressed from the wild muscadine 
grapes that grew in plenty through the valley. 

As soon as we had all passed the cups of wine, 
and had got fairly seated again, M‘ Knight, at the 
request of Rolfe, took up the thread of the story, in 
order to detail how he had escaped from the Indiana 
on that fearful night. His story was a short one 
and ran as follows ; — 

“ After 1 left you,’’ said he, addressing Rolfe 
“ where you had broken your wagon, I rode on, and 
ove’^.ook the caravan. The road, as you may remem 
ber, became smooth and level ; and as there appeared 
to be no good camping ground nearer than the hills 


THE MINER S STOK'i . 


71 


we kept on for them without stopping. It m as neai 
sundown wheL we reached the little stream wheie 
you saw the wagons. There, of course, we halted, 
and formed our camp. I did not expect you to come 
in for an hour or so later, as I calculated that it would 
take you about that length of time to mend the tongue 
We kindled fires, and, having cooked our suppers and 
eaten them, were sitting around the logs, chatting 
smoking, and some of the Mexicans, as is their cus- 
tom, playing at monte. We had put out no guard, as 
we had no expectation that there were Indians in that 
quarter. Some of the men said they had travelled 
the trail before, and had never met an Indian within 
fifiy miles of the place. At length it became dark, 
and I began to grow uneasy about you, fearing you 
might not be able to make out our trail in the night. 
Leaving my wife and child by one of the fires, I 
climbed a hill that looked in the direction you should 
have come ; but I could see nothing for the darkness. 
I stood for some time listening, thinking I might hear 
the rattle of your wheels, or some one of you talking. 
All at once a yell broke upon my ears, that caused 
me to turn towards the camp with a feeling of conster- 
nation, I well knew the meaning of that yell. 1 
knew it was the war cry of the Arapahoes. I saw 
savage figures dashing about in the red glare of the 
fires. I heard shots and shouts, and screams and 


72 


THE miner’s story. 


groans ; and, among the rest, I recognized the voice 
of my wife calling me by name. 

“I did not hesitate a moment, but ran down the 
hill, and flung myself into the thick of the fight, wh.ch 
was now raging fiercely. I had nothing in my hards 
but a large knife, with which I struck on all sides, 
prostrating several of the savages. Here I fought 
for a moment, and there I ran, calling for mj'^ ’*'ife. 
I passed through among the wagons, and on all sides 
of the camp, crying, ‘ Luisa ! ’ There was no an- 
swer; she was nowhere to be seen. Again I w^as 
face to face with painted savages, and battling with 
desperation. Most of my comrades were soon killed, 
and I was forced out among the bushes, and into the 
darkness, by one of the Indians, who pressed upon 
me with his spear. I felt the weapon pass through 
my thigh, and I fell, empaled upon the shaft. The 
Indian fell upon top of me ; but, before he could 
struggle up again, I had thrust him with my knife, 
tiia ne lay senseless. 

1 rose to my feet, and succeeded in drawing oul 
me spear, i saw that the struggle had ceased around 
tne tires ; aim believing that my comrades, as well 
as my wife and child, were all dead I turned my 
back upon the fires, and stole off into the thicket 
determined to get as far as possible from the camp. 
1 had not gone more than three hundred yards when 


THE miner’s story 


73 


i fell, exhausted with the loss of blood and the pain 
of my wound. I had fallen near some rocks at the 
bottom of a precipice, where I saw there w£is a small 
crevice or cave. I had still strength enough left to 
enable me to reach this cave and crawl into it ; but 1 
fainted as soon as the effort was over. 

“ I must have lain insensible for many hours. 
When I came to consciousness again, I saw that day 
light was shining into the cave. I felt that I was very 
weak, and could scarce move myself. My wound 
stared me in the face, still undressed, but the blood 
had ceased flowing of its own accord. I tore up my 
shirt, and dressed it as well as I was able ; and then, 
getting nearer to the mouth of the cave, I lay and 
listened. I could hear the voices of the Indians, 
though very indistinctly, in the direction of the camp 
This continued for an hour or more ; and then the 
ixxjks rang with a terrible explosiorr, which I knew to 
be the bursting of a shell. After that, I could hear 
loud shouts, and, soon after, the hurried trampling of 
many horses ; and then all was silence. I thought, 
at the time, that the Indians had taken their depart- 
ure ; but I knew not what had caused them to go off 
in such a hurry. I found out afterwards. Your con- 
jecture was right. They had thrown one of the 
bombs into the fire, and the fuse catching, had caused 
it to explode, killing several of their number. As 
they believed it to be the hand of the Great Spirit 

7 G 


74 


THE MINER’S STORT. 


they had histily gathered up such plunder as was 
most desirable to them, and ridden away from the 
spot. I did not know this at the time, and I lay stiH 
in my cave. For several hours all was silence ; but, 
as night drew near, I fancied T again heard noises 
about the camp, and I thought the Indians might not 
yet be gone. 

“ When darkness came, I would have crawled 
towards the camp, but I could not ; and I lay all night 
in the cave, chafing with the pain of my wound, and 
listening to the howling of the wolves. That was a 
terrible night. 

“ Morning dawned again, and I could hear no 
sounds. I was now suffering dreadfully, both from 
Hunger and thirst. I saw a well-known tree growing 
in front of the cave. I knew it, because the same 
tree is found upon the mountains of the Mimbres, 
near our mine. It was a species of pine, called by 
the Mexicans ‘ pinon,’ whose cones afford food to 
thousands of the miserable savages who roam over 
.he great western desert, from the Rocky Mountains 
to California. If 1 could only reach this tree, I 
might find some of its nuts upon the ground ; and, 
with this hope, I diagged myself painfully out of the 
cave. It was not twenty paces from the rocks where 
the tree ^rew ; yet, with my weakness and the pain 
of my wound, I was nearly half an hour in reaching 
It To my joy, I found the ground under it covered 


THE MINER S STORY 


7ft 


with cones. 1 was. not long in stripping off the rinds 
of many of tnem, and gett.'ng the seeds, which I ate 
greedily, until I had satisfied my hunger. 

“ But another appetite far more terrible was crav- 
ing me — I was tortured with thirst. Could I crawl 
as far as the camp ? I knew that there I should find 
water in the stream ; and, from the position of the 
cave, I knew I could not find it nearer. I musl 
either reach it or die ; and, with this thought to spui 
me on, I commenced the short journey of three hun- 
dred yards, although I was not certain I might live tc 
Bee the end of it. I had not crawled six paces through 
ihe underwood, when a bunch of small, white flowen 
attracted my attention. They were the flowers of the 
sorrel tree, — the beautiful lyonia, — the veiy sight of 
which sent a thrill of gladness through my heart. 
1 was soon under the tree, and, clutching one of its 
lowermost branches, I stripped it of its smooth, ser- 
rated leaves, and eagerly chewed them. Another 
and another branch were successively divested of 
their foliage, until the little tree looked as if a flock 
of goats had been breakfasting upon it. I lay foi 
nearly an hour masticating the soft leaves, and swal- 
lowing their delicious and acid juice. At length my 
thirst was alleviated, and I fell asleep under the coo^ 
shadow of the lyonia. 

“ When I awoke again, 1 felt much stronger, and 
with new appetite to eat. The fever which had beguc 


76 


THE miner’s story. 

to threaten me was much allayed ; and I knew thii 
was to be attributed to the virtue of the leaves 1 had 
eaten — for, besides giving relief to thirst, the sap of 
the sorrel tree is a most potent febrifuge. Gathering 
a fresh quan.ity of the leaves, and tying them to- 
gether, I again set out for the pinon tree. I took the 
leaves with me, so that I should not have to make the 
return trip to the sorrel that night again. In a few 
minutes I had reached the end of my journey, an<. 
was busy among the cones. You laugh at my call- 
ing it a journey ; but I assure you it was a most 
painful one to me, although it was not ten paces 
from one tree to the other. The slightest motion 
agonized me. 

That night I passed under the pinon, and in the 
morning, having made my breakfast of the seeds, 1 
collected my pockets full, and set out again for the 
sorrel tree. Here I spent the day ; and with a fresh 
cargo of leaves, returned at night to the pinon, where 
I again slept. ^ - 

“ Thus, for four successive days and nights, I 
passed between these two brave trees, living upon the 
sustenance they afforded. The fever was luckily 
warded off by the leaves of the friendly lyonia. My 
wound began to heal, and the pain left it. The 
wolves came a intervals ; but, seeing my long knife 
and that I still lived, they kept at a wary distance 

“ Although the leaves of the sorrel assuaged my 


THE miner’s story. 


ihirst, they did not satisfy it. I longed for a good 
draught of water ; and, on the fourth day, I set out 
for the stream. I was now able^ to creep upon my 
hands and one knee, dragging the wounded limb after. 
When I had got about half way through the under- 
wood, I came upon an object that almost congealed 
the blood in my veins. It was a human skeleton. I 
knew it was not that of alnan; I knew it was — ” 

Here the voice of the miner became choked with 
Bobs, and he was unable to finish the sentence 
Nearly all in the room — even the rude hunters — 
wept as they beheld his emotion. After an effort, he 
continued : — 

“ I saw that she had been buried ; and 1 wondered 
at this, for I knew the Indians had not done it. I 
was never certain until this hour who had performed 
for her that sacred rite. I thought, however, it must 
have been you ; for, after I had recovered, I went 
back upon the trail, and, not finding your wagon 
any where, I knew you must have come on to the 
camp, and gone away again. a looked in every 
direction to find which way you had gone ; but, aa 
you will remember, there was a heavy fall of rain 
shortly after, and that had obliterated every track. 
All this happened after I was able to get upon my 
feet, which was not for a month after the night of 
the massacre. But let me go back in my narrativi 
to where I had found the remains of my poor wife. 


78 


THE MINER’S STORY. 


“ The wolves had torn the body from its grave. 1 
tooked for some vestige of my child. With my hands 
[ dug down into the loose mould and leaves, which 
you had thrown over her body ; but no infant was 
there. I crawled on to the camp. I found that just 
us you have described it, except that the bodies were 
now bleaching skeletons, and the wolves had taken 
their departure. I searched around, on all sides 
thinking I might find some traces of my little Luisa, 
but in vain. ‘ The Indians have either carried the 
child away,’ thought I, ‘ or the fierce wolves have 
devoured it altogether.’ 

“ In one of the wagons I found an old mess chest 
lying hid under some rubbish. It had escaped the 
hurried plunder of the savages. On opening it, I saw 
that it contained, among other things, some coffee, 
and several pounds of jerked meat. This was a 
fortunate event, for the meat and coffee nourished 
me, until I was able to gather a sufficient -quantity of 
the pinons. 

“ In this way I spent a whole month, sleeping in 
one of the wagons at night, and crawling off to col- 
lect pinons during the day. I had but little fear 
that the Indians would return ; for I knew that that 
part of the country was not inhabited by any tribe , 
and we must have fallen in with a party of the Ara* 
Dahoes, wandering out of their usual range. As 
soon as 1 grew strong enough, I dug a grave, where 


1 HU MINER S STORY. 


79 


L interred the remains of my poor wife ; and now I, 
began to think of taking my leave of that melanriholy 
scene. 

“ I knew that I was not much more than a hundred 
miles distant from the eastern settlements of New 
Mexico ; but a hundred miles of uninhabited wilder- 
ness, and on foot, was a barrier that seemed almost 
as impassable as the ocean itself. I was determined, 
however, to make the attempt ; and I set about sew- 
ing a bag in which I should carry my roasted pihons 
— the only provision I could get to sustain mo through 
the journey. 

“ While engaged in this operation, with my eyes 
nxed upon the work, I heard footsteps near me. I 
raised my head suddenly, and in alarm. What was 
my joy when I saw that the object which had startled 
me was neither more nor less than a mule, that was 
slowly coming towards the camp ! I recognized it as 
one of the mules that had belonged to our caravan. 

“ The animal had not yet observed me ; and I 
thought it might shy away if I showed myself too 
suddenly. I resolved, therefore, to capture it by 
stratagem. I crept into the wagon, where I knew 
there was a lasso ; and having got hold of this, I placed 
myself in ambush, where I saw the mule would mos 
likely pass. I had scarcely got the noose ready, 
when, to my extreme satisfaction, the mule came 
directly to where I lay expecting it. The next me 


80 


THE MINER S STORY. 


ment its neck was firmly grasped in the loop of the 
lasso, and the animal itself stood tied to the tongue of 
erne of the wagons. It was one of our mules that 
had escaped from the Indians, and after wandering 
over the country for weeks had now found the track, 
and would, no doubt, had I not caught it, have found 
its way back to St. Louis ; for this is by no means an 
unfrequent occurrence with animals that stray off 
from the caravans. It soon became tame with me, 
and in a few days more I had manufactured a bridle 
and saddle ; and, mounting with my bag of roasted 
pinons, I rode off on the trail foi Santa Fe. In about 
a week I reached that place in safety, and continued 
on southward to the mine. 

“ My history since that time can have but little 
interest for any of you. It is that of a man sor- 
rowing for the loss of all he loved on earth. But 
you, Rolfe — you have given me new life in restoring 
to me my child, my Luisa ; and every chapter of 
your history, woven as it is with hers, will be to me, 
at least, of the deepest interest. Go on, then — 
go or I ” 

W ith this the miner concluded ; and our host, aflei 
inviting each of us to refill oar cups with wine, and 
our pipes with tobacco, resumed his narrative where 
he had left it off, in consequence cf the happy buf 
unexpected episode to which it had led. 


LOST IN THE DESERT. 


81 


CHAPTER IX. 

LOST IN THE DESERT 

* Well, my friends,” proceeded our host, ‘ i! 
was a terrible sight to look upon — those fierce, 
gaunt wolves — the mad and foaming mastiffs — the 
dead mother, and the terrified and screaming child. 
Of course, the wolves fled at the approach of my- 
self and Cudjo, and the dogs whimpered with delight. 
Well they might, poor brutes ; for had we not come 
to their aid, they could not have held out much 
longer against such fearful odds. Although the 
battle had not been a long one, and commenced 
most likely after we had driven the wolves from the 
camp, yet the poor mastiffs were torn and bleeding 
in many places. As I stooped down to take up 
the little Luisa, she still clung close around the 
neck of her mother, crying for her ‘ mamma ’ tc 
awake. I saw that her mamma would never wake 
again. She was lifeless and cold. There was an 
arrow in her breast. It was plain, that, after re- 
ceiving this wound, she had fled into the thicket, 
•— DC doubt followed by the faithful dogs, — and 


82 


LOST IN THE DESERT 


favored by the darkness, had kept on, until she had 
falhm and died. The position of her arms showed 
that she had breathed her last clasping her child to 
her bosom. 

‘‘ Leaving Cudjt to guard the body, I carried the 
child back to my cwn wagon. Although so ’lately 
terrified with the battle of the wolves and dogs, 
the little creature cried at being separated from its 
mother, and struggled in my arms to be taken back.” 

Here Rolfe’s narrative was again interrupted by 
the sobs of Knight, who — although a firm, lion- 
hearted man — could not restrain himself on listening 
to these painfully-affecting details. The children 
of Rolfe, too, repeatedly wept aloud. Tne “ dark 
sister” herself seemed least affected of all. Per- 
haps that terrible scene, occurring at such an early 
period of her life, had impressed her character with 
the firmness and composure which afterwards marked 
it. Every now and then she bent towards the “ fair 
one,” throwing her arms around the neck of the 
latter, and endeavoring to restrain her tears. 

“ I gave the child to^my wife,” continued Rolfe, 
after a pause, “ and in the company of little Maiy, 
then about her own age, she soon ceased crying, 
and fell asleep in my wife’s bosom. I took a spade 
w’hich I had in my wagon, and going back, I diig 
a grave, and, with the help of Cudjo, hastily in- 
terred ^he body. I say hastily^ for we did not kno^!« 


LOST IN THE DESERT. 


83 


tlie moment we might stand in need of some one 
to do as much for ourselves. It seems that our 
labor was in vain ; yet even at the time, had ^e 
known this was to be the case, we should not the less 
have acted as we did. There was some satisfaction 
in performing this last sacr^ and Christian ceremony 
for our murdered friend ; and both Cudjo and I felt 
it to be nothing more than our duty. 

“ We did not remain any longer near the spot, 
but, hastening back to our wagon, I led the oxen in 
among some trees, where they might be hidden 
from view. Commending my wife and little ones to 
God, I shouldered my rifle, and set out, for the pur- 
pose of discovering whether the savages had left the 
place, and in what direction they had gone. It was 
my intention, should I be able to satisfy myself 
about the road they had taken, to go by some other 
course, yet by one that would bring me bacK into 
the trail, so that I could go on to the country of 
New Mexico. I knew very well that at that late 
season, and with oxen worn out, as ours were, I 
could never get back to St. Louis — which wcj 
nearly eight hundred miles distant. 

“ After proceeding a mile or two, — creeping 
ii rough bushes, and skulking behind rocks, — I S5.w 
Jhe trail of the Indians striking out into an open 
plain, in a due westerly direction. They must have 
formed a large band, and all mounted, as the tracks 


«4 


LOST IN THE DESERT. 


of tneir horses testified. Seeing that they had 
moved off westward, I formed the resolution of 
making two or three days’ journey to the south, and 
afterwards turning in a westerly direction. This 
would most likely secure me from meeting them 
again, and would bring me, as I guessed, to the 
eastern ranges of the Rocky Mountains, through 
which I might pass into the valley of New Mexico. 
I had heard my companions speak of a more south- 
ern pass through these mountains than that which 
lies near Santa Fe ; and I hoped to be able to reach 
It, although I believed it -to be two hundred miles 
distant. With these plans in my mind, I returned 
to where I had left my little party. 

“ It was night when I got back to the wagon, and 
1 found Mary and the children in great distress 
at my delay ; but I had brought them good news 
— that the Indians were gone away. 

“ I had thought of remaining all night where we 
were ; but, not being yet fully satisfied that the 
Indians were gone, I changed my intention. Seeing 
that we were to have a moon, and that a smooth 
plain stretched away towards the south, I concluded 
that it would be better to make a night journey of 
It, and put twenty miles, if possible, between us and 
the camp. All agreed with this proposal. In fact 
we were all equally anxious to get away fiom that 
fearful spot ; and had we staid by it, not one af us 


LOST IN THE DESERT. 


@5 


eould have slept a wink. The apprehension thai the 
savages might return, and the excited state of our 
feelings, — to say nothing of tne terrible howling of 
the wolves, — would have kept us awake ; so, re- 
solving to take our departure, we waited for the rising 
of the moon. 

“We did not waste time, my friends. You all 
know that water is the great want in these deserts, 
both for man and beast. We knew not where or 
when we might next find it ; so we took the precau- 
tion to fill our vessels at the stream. We filled all 
we had that would hold water. Alas ! these were 
not enough, as you shall hear. 

“ The moon rose at length. She seemed to smile 
upon the horrid picture that lay below at the de- 
serted camp ; but we staid no longer to contemplate 
it. Leading our oxen out of their cache ^ we struck 
out into the open plain, in a direction as nearly south 
as I could guide myself. I looked northward for the 
star in the tail of the Little Bear, — the polar star, — 
which I soon found by the pointers of the Ursa Ma- 
jor ; and keeping this directly on our backs, we 
proceeded on. Whenever the inequalities of the 
ground forced us out of our track, I would again turn 
to this little star, and consult its unfailing index. 
There it twinkled in the blue heavens, like the eye 
of a friend. It was the finger of God poirting uf 
onward. 


8 


86 


LOST IN THE DESERT. 


“And onward w'e went — here creeping around 
some gaping fissure, that opened across our track — ' 
there wading over a sandy swell — and anon rolling 
briskly along the smooth, herbless plain ; for the 
country we were passing through was a parched ana 
treeless desert. 

“We made a good night’s journey of it, checTed 
by the prospect of escaping from the savages. When 
day broke, we were twenty miles from the camp 
The rough hills that surrounded it were completely 
lost to our view, and we knew from this that we had 
travelled a long way ; for some of these hills were of 
great height. We knew’ that we must have passed 
over a considerable arc of the earth’s surface before 
their tops could have sunk below the horizon. Of 
course, some intervening ridges, such as the sandy 
swells I have mentioned, helped to hide them from 
our view ; but, at all events, we had the satisfaction 
of knowing that the savages, even had they returned 
to the camp, could not now see us from that point. 
We only feared the chances of their discovering our 
tracks and following us. Urged by this apprehen- 
sion, W8 did not halt when the day broke, but kept 
on until near noontide. Then we drew up ; for our 
oxen, as well as the horse, were completely tired 
jown, and could go no farther without rest. 

“ It was but a poor rest for them, with neither 
grass nor water ; not a blade of any thing green 


LOST IN THE DESERT. 87 

except the artemisia plant, the wild wormwood, waiah 
of course, neither liorse nor oxen would touch. This 
grew all around us in low thickets. Its gnarled and 
twisted bushes, with their white, silvery leaves, so far 
from gladdening the eye, only served to render the 
scene more dreary and desolate ; for we knew th»il 
this plant denoted the extreme barrenness of the 
soil. We knew that, wherever it grew, the deserl 
was <1 round it. 

“ it was, indeed, but a poor rest for our animals ; 
for the hot sun glanced down upon them during the 
noon hours, making them still more thirsty. We 
could not alTord them a drop of the precious water; 
for we ourselves were oppressed with extreme thirst, 
and our stock was hourly diminishing. .It was as 
much as we could do to spare a small quantity to the 
dogs. Castor and Pollux. - 

“ Long before night, we once more yoked to the 
o.xen, and continued our journey, in the hope of 
i -^aching some stream or spring. By sunset, we 
had m.ade ten miles farther to the south, but no 
Imidmark as yet appeared in sight — nothing to indi- 
cate the presence of water. We could see nothing 
ajound us but the sterile plain, stretching on all s;de3 
to the hoiizon ; not even a bush, or rock, or the 
form of a wild animal, relieved the monotonous ex- 
panse We were as much alone a? if we had been 
in an open boat, in the middle of the ocean. 


88 


lost in the desert. 


“We began to grow alarmed, and to hesitate 
Should we go back ? No ; that would never da 
Even had the prospect at the end of a backward 
journey been more cheering, we felt uncertain 
whether we might be able to reach the stream we 
had just left. We should surely reach water £is soon 
by keeping forward ; and with this thought we trav- 
elled on through all the livelong night. 

“ When morning came, I again surveyed the hori 
zon, but could see no object along its level line. I 
was riding gloomily alongside the poor oxen, watch- 
ing their laborious efforts, when a voice sounded in 
my ears. It was that of Frank, who was standing 
in the fore part of the wagon, looking out from under 
the tilt. 

“ ‘ Papa ! papa ! ’ cried he, ‘ look at the pretty 
white cloud ! ’ 

“ I looked up at the boy, to see what he meant. 
I saw that he was pointing to the south-east, and I 
turned my eyes in that direction. I uttered an excla- 
mation of joy, which startled my companions ; for I 
saw that what Frank had taken for a white cloud 
was the snowy cap of a mountain. I might have 
seen it before, had my eyes been searching in that 
quarter ; but they were not, as I was examining the 
sky towards the south and west. 

“ Guided by no very extraordinary experience, ] 
itnew that where there was snow there must be 


LOST IN THE DESERT. 


89 


•i-ater and, without another word, 1 directed Gudjo. 
to head his oxen for the mountain. It was out of 
ihe way we wanted to go; but we thought not of 
that, for the saving of our lives had now grown to 
be the only question with us. 

The mountain was still twenty miles distant. We 
could have seen it much farther off, but we had been 
travelling through the night. The question was, 
Would our oxen be able to reach it ? They were 
already tottering in their tracks. If they should break 
down, could we reach it ? Our water was all gone, 
and we were suffering from thirst as the sun rose. 
‘ A river,’ thought I, ‘ must run from the mountain, fed 
by the melting of its snows. Perhaps we might come 
to this river before arriving at the mountain foot.’ 
But no; the plain evidently sloped down from us to 
the mountain. Whatever stream ran from it must 
go the other way. We should find no water before 
reaching the mountain — perhaps not then; and, 
tortured with these doubts, we pushed gloomily for- 
ward. 

“ By noon, the oxen began to give out. One of 
tliem fell dead, and we left him. The other three 
could nut go much farther. Every article that was 
of no present use was thrown from the wagon to 
lighten it, and left lying on the plain ; but still the 
poor brutes were scarce able to drag it along. Ws 
went at a snail’s pace. 

8 * . H 


90 


LOST IN THE DESERT. 


“ A short rest might recruit the animals ; but 
could not bring myself to halt again, as my heart 
was agonized by the cries of my suffering children. 
Mary bore up nobly ; so, too, did the boys. For 
mjself, I could not offer a word of consolation, for 
I knew that we were still ten miles from the foot of 
4ie mountain. I thought of the possibility of riding 
on ahead, and bringing back some water in the ves- 
sels; but I saw that my horse could never stand it. 
He was even now unable to carry me, and I was 
afoot, leading him. Cudjo, also, walked by the side 
of the oxen. Another of these now gave up, and 
only two remained to drag the vehicle. 

“ At this terrible moment, several objects appeared 
before us on the plain, that caused me to cry out 
with delight. They were dark-green masses, of dif- 
ferent sizes — the largest of them about the size of a 
beecap. They looked like a number of huge hedge- 
hogs rolled up, and presenting on all sides their 
thorny spikes. On seeing them, I dropped my horse ; 
and, drawing my knife, ran eagerly forward. My 
companions thought I had gone mad, not under- 
standing why I should have drawn my knife on such 
harmless-looking objects, and not knowing what they 
were. But 1 knew well what they were ; 1 knew 
they W8t8 the glole cacti, 

“ In a moment’s time, I had peeled the spikeleU 
from several of them ; and as the wondering partj 


LOST IN THE DESERT 


91 


carne up. and -saw the dark-green, succulent vegeta- 
bles, with the crystal water oozing out of their pores, 
they were satisfied that I had not gone mad. 

“ In a short while, we had cut the huge spheroids 
into slices, which we chewed with avidity. We sa 
some of them also befor# the horse and oxen, both 
of which devoured them greedily, sap, fibres, and 
all ; while the dogs lapped the cool liquid wherever 
they were cut. 

“ It is true, that this did not quench thirst in the 
same way that a drink of water would have done; 
but it greatly relieved us, and would, perhaps, enable 
us to reach the mountain. We resolved to halt for 
a short while, in order to rest the oxen. Unfortu- 
nately, the relief had come too late for one of them. 
It had been his last stretch ; and when we were about 
to start again, we found that he had lain down, and 
was upable to rise. We saw that we must leave 
him ; and, taking such harness as we could find, we 
put the horse in his place, and moved onward. We 
were in hopes of finding another little garden of 
cactus plants ; but none appeared, and we toiled on, 
•uffering as before. 

“ When we had got within about five miles of the 
wountain foot, the other ox broke down, and fell — as 
we supposed — dead. We could take the wagon no 
farther ; but it was no time eithei to hesitate or halt 
we must try it afoot, or perish where we were. 


92 


LOST IN THE DESERT. 


“ I loosed out the horse, and left him to his will 
i saw he was no longer able to carry any of us. 1 
took an axe from the wagon, also a tin pot, and a 
piece of dry beef that still remained to us. Cudjo 
shouldered the axe and little Mary ; I carried the 
beef, the pot, Luisa, and my rifle ; while my wife, 
Frank, and Harry, each held something in their hands. 
Thus burdened, we bade adieu to the wagon, and 
struck off* towards the mountain. The dogs followed ; 
and the poor horse, not willing to be left behind, 
came tottering after. 

There is not much more of that journey to be 
detailed. We toiled through those five miles the best 
way we could. As we drew nearer to the mountain, 
we could see deep, dark ravines running down its 
sides, and in the bottom of one we distinguished a 
silvery thread, which we knew was the foam of water 
as it dashed over the rocks. The sight gave us new 
energy, and in another hour we had reached the 
banks of a crystal stream, and were offering thanki 
for our deliverance.” 


• nvKNrURE WITH AN ARMADILLO. 


CHAPTER X. 

ADVENTURE WITH AN ARMADILLO. 

“ Well, my friends, we had arrived on the bankti 
of a rivulet, and were thanking God for bringing us 
safely there. We soon satisfied our thirst, as you 
may believe, and began to look around us. The 
stream we had reached was not that which runs into 
the valley here, but altogether on the other side of 
the mountain. It was but a mere rill, and I saw that 
several similar ones issued from the ravines, and, 
after running a short distance into the plain, fell ofi’ 
towards the south-east, and united with others running 
from that side. I found afterwards that they all 
joined into the same channel, forming a considerable 
river, which runs from this elevated plain in an east- 
erly direction ; and which I take to be a head water 
of the great Red River of Louisiana, or, perhaps, of 
tht Brazos, or Colorado, of Texas. I have called it 
a considerable river. That is not quite correct ; for, 
although, where they all unite, they form a good- 
sized body of water, yet twenty miles farther down, 
for three fourths of the year, the channel is perfectly 


M ;»DVENTlinE WITH AN ARMADILLO. 

uTy ; and that is the case I know not how far beyond. 
The water, which passes Jrom the mountain at all 
times, is either evaporated by the hot sun, or sinks 
into the sands of its own bed, during a run of twenty 
miles. It is only in times of great rain, — a rare 
occurrence here, — or when very hot weather melts 
an un usual quantity of the snow, that there is water 
enough to carry the stream over ^a flat, sandy tract, 
^hich stretches away to the eastward. All these 
things I found out afterwards, and as you, my friendv^, 
know them to be common phenomena of the deseu, 
I shall not now dwell upon them. 

“ I saw that, where we were, there was but little 
chance of getting any thing to eat. The sides of the 
mountain were rugged and grim, with here and there 
a stunted cedar hanging from the rocks. The small 
patches of grass and willows that lined the banks of 
the little rills, although cheering to the eye, when 
compared with the brown barrenness of the desert, 
offered but little prospect that we should get any thing 
to eat there. If the desert stretched away o the 
south of the mountain, as we saw that it did to the 
north, f ast, and west, then we had only reached a tern* 
porarv resting-place, and we might still perish, if no? 
from thirst, from what was equally as had — hunger. 

“This Avas uppermost in our thoughts at the time, 
for we had not eaten a morsel during that day ; so 
we turned our attention to the piece of dried meat. 


ADVENTURE WITH AN ARMADILLO. 95 

‘ Let US cook it, and make a soup,’ said Mary, 
that will be better for the children.’ My poor wife! 
I saw that the extreme fatigue she had undergone 
had exhausted her strength, yet still she endeavorea 
to be cheerful. 

‘ Yes, papa, let us make soup ; soup is veiy 
nice,’ added Frank, trying to cheer his mother by 
showing -that he was not dismayed. 

“ ‘ Very well, then,’ I replied. ‘ Come, Cudjo, 
shoulder your axe, and let us to the mountain for" 
wood. Yonder are some pine trees near the foot 
they will make an excellent fire.’ 

“ So Cudjo and I started for the wood, which was 
growing about three hundred yards distant, and close 
in to the >-^*^ks where the stream came down. 

“ As we drew nearer to the trees, I saw that they 
were not pine trees, but very different indeed. Both 
trunks and branches had long, thorny spikes upon 
them, like porcupines’ quills, and the leaves wer« 
of a bright shining green, pinnate with small ova 
leaflets. But what was most singular was the lonp 
bean-shaped pods that hung down thickly from the 
branches. These were about an inch and a half in 
breadth, and some of them not less than twelve 
inches in length. They were of a reddish-brown, 
nearly a claret color. Except in the color, they 
looked exactly like large bean pods filled with beans. 

“I was not ignorant of what species of tree was 


96 


ADVENTURE WITH AN ARMADILLf . 


befor 5 US. I had seen it before. 1 knew it was the 
honey locust, or thorny acacia — the carob tree of 
the East, and the famed ‘ algarobo ’ of the Spaniards. 
I was not ignorant of its uses, neither, for I knew 
this to be the tree upon which (as many suppose) 
St. John the Baptist sustained himself in the desert, 
where it is said, ‘ His meat was locusts and wild 
honey.’ Hence it is sometimes called ‘ St. John’s 
bread.’ Neither was Cudjo ignorant of its uses. 
The moment his eyes rested upon the long, brown 
legumes, he cried out, with gestures of delight, — 

“ ‘ Massa — Massa Hoff, lookee yonder ! Beans 
and honey for supper ! ’ 

“ We were soon under the branches ; and while I 
proceeded to knock down and collect a quantity of 
the ripe fruit, Cudjo went farther up among the 
rocks, to procure his firewood from the pines that 
grew there. • t. 

“ I soon filled my handkerchief, and was waiting 
for Cudjo, when I heard him shout, — 

“ ‘ Massa Roff! come dis way, and see de var- 
mint — what him be.’ 

“ 1 immediately ran up among the rocks. On 
leaching the spot where Cudjo was, I found him 
bending over a crevice or hole in the ground, flora 
which protruded an object very much like the tail of 
a pig. 

“ ‘ What is it, Cudjo r ’ 1 asked. 


ADVENTURE WITH AN ARMADILLO. 


91 


* * Don’t know, Massa. Varmint I never seed ia 
^aginny — looks someting like de ole ’possum.’ 

“ ‘ Catch hold of the tail, and pull him out,’ said 1. 
, “‘Lor! Massa Rotf, I’ve tried ma best, but can’t 
fetch ’im no how. Look yar 1 ’ And so saying, my 
companion seized the tail, and pulled, — seemingly 
with all his might, — but to no purpose. 

“ ‘ Did you see the animal when it was outside ^ * 
I inquired. 

“ ‘ Yes, Massa'; see ’im and chase ’im till I tree 
him yar in dis cave.’ 

“ ‘ What was it like ? ’ 

“ ‘ Berry like a pig ; maybe more belike ole ’pos- 
sum, but cubberd all ober wi’ shell, like a Vaginny 
.urtle.’ 

“ ‘ O, then, it is an armadillo.” 

“ ‘ An amadiller 1 Cudjo niver hear o’ dat var- 
mint afore.’ 

“ I saw that the animal which had so astonished 
my companion was one of those curious living things 
which Nature, in giving variety to her creatures, has 
thought proper to form ; and which are known 
throughout Mexico and South America by the name 
of ‘ armadilloes.’ They are so called from the Spanish 
word ‘ armado,’ which signifies armed; becau&j 
that all over their body there is a hard, shell-liko 
covering, divided into bands and regular figures, ex 
actly like the coats of mail worn by the warriors of 

Q T 


98 ADVENTURE WITH AN ARMADILLO. 

ancient times. There is even a helmet covering 
their hf'nds, connected with the other paits of the 
armor bv^ a joint, which renders this resemblance stih 
more complete and singular. There aie many spe* 
cies of these animals ; some of them as large as a 
' fu 1-sized sheep, but the generality of them are much 
smaller. The curious figuring of the shell that covers 
them differs in the different species. In some, the 
segments are squares; in others, hexagons; and in 
others, again, they are of a pentagonal shape. In 
all of them, however, the figures have a mathe- 
matical form and precision that is both strange and 
Deautiful. They look as though they were artificial ; 
that is, carved by the hand of man. They are 
harmless creatures, and most of the species feed 
upon herbs and grass. They do not run very nim- 
bly, though they can go much faster than one would 
suppose, considering the heavy armor which they 
carry. This, however, is not all in one shell, but in 
many pieces, connected together by a tough, pliable 
skin. Hence they can use their limbs with sufficient 
ease. They are not such slow travellers as the 
turtles 'and tortoises. When they are pursued and 
overtaken, they sometimes gather themselves into a 
round ball, as hedgehogs do ; and if they should 
happen to be near the edge of a precipice, they 
will roll themselves over to escape from their enemy 
More often, when pursued, they betake themselvef 


ADVENTURE WITH AN ARMAIIELO 


99 


io their holes, or to any crevice among rocks that 
may be near ; and this was evidently the case 
with that which Cudjo had surprised. When ther 
can hide their heads, like the ostrich, they fancy 
themselves safe ; and so, no doubt, fancied this one, 
untr he felt the sinewy fingers of Cudjo grasping 
him by the tail. It was evident the animal had run 
into a shallow crack where he could go no farfnei. 
else we would soon have lost sight of his tail ; but it 
was equally evident, that pulling upon that append 
age was not the method to get him out. I could sec 
that he had pushed the scaly armor outward ano 
upward, so that it held fast against the rocks on 
every side. Moreover, his claws, which are re 
markable both for length and tenacity, were clutche^t 
firmly against the bottom of the crevice. It would 
have taken a team of oxen to have pulled him out, 
as Cudjo remarked with a grin. 

“ I had heard of a plan used by the Indians who 
hunt the armadillo, and who are very fond of his flesh ' 
and as I was determined to try it, I told my companion 
to let go the tail, and stand to one side. 

“ I now knelt down in front of the cave, and, taking 
a small branch of cedar, commenced tickling the 
hind quarters of the animal with the sharp needles 
In a moment I saw that his muscles began to relax, 
and the shell to separate from the rocks, and close 
in towards his body. After continuing the operation 


100 


ADVENTURE WITH AN AKft. A.D11.LO. 


for seme minutes, I observed that he had reduced 
himself to his natural size, and had no doubt for- 
gotten to keep a lookout with his claws. Seeing this 
I seized the tail firmly ; and, giving it a sudden 
jerk, swung the armadillo out between the feet of 
my companion. Cudjo aimed a blow with the axe 
which nearly severed its head from its body, and 
killed the animal outright. It was about the size 
of a rabbit, and proved to be of the eight-banded 
species — reckoned more delicious eating than any 
other. 

“ We now returned to camp with our firewood, 
our locust beans, and our armadillo — the last of which 
objects horrified my wife, when I told her I was going 
to eat it. It proved a great curiosity to the boys, 
however, who amused themselves by running their 
fingers all over its mottled armor. But I had some- 
thing that amused the little Mary and Luisa still more 
— the delicious, honey-like pulp from the pods of the 
locust tree, which they greedily ate. The seeds we 
extracted from the pulp, intending to roast them as 
Boon as we had kindled our fire. 

“ And now, my friends,” continued Rolfe, rising 
to his feet, “ since we have got to talking about this 
same locust tree, I hope you will not retuse to try a 
mug of my home-brewed beer, which I made out of 
its beans this very day, while you were wandering 
about my grounds and through the valley. It is. 


ADVENTURE WITH AN ARMADILLO. UU 

perhaps, not equal to Barclay and Perkins’s ; but 1 
flatter myself, that, under the circumstances, you will 
not find it unpalatable.” 

Saying this, our host brought forward a large 
flagon, and pouring into our cups a brown-colored 
liquid, set them before us. We all drank of the 
“ locust beer,” which was not unlike mead or new 
cider ; and to prove that we liked it, we drank again 
and again. 

As soon as this ceremony was over, Rolfe vent ca 
with his narration. 


A VERY LEAN BUFFALO, 


lOS 


CHAPTER XI. 

A VERY LEAN BUFFALO. 

“ We were all soon engaged in different occupa 
lions. Mary was preparing the dried meat, which she 
intended to boil along with the locust beans in our tin 
pot. Fortunately, it was a large one, and held nearly 
a gallon. Cudjo was busy kindling the fire, which 
already sent up its volumes of blue smoke. Frank, 
Harry, and the little ones were sucking away at the 
natural preserves of the acacia, while I was dressing 
my armadillo for the spit. In addition to this, our 
horse was filling out his sides upon the rich buffalo 
grass that grew along the stream ; and the dogs — 
poor fellows! they were like to fare worst of all — 
stood watching my operations, and snapped eagerly 
at every bit that fell from my knife. In a very 
short while the fire was blazing up, the beef and 
beans were bubbling over it in the tin pot, and the 
armadillo was sputtering on the spit beside them. 
In another short while, all things were cooked and 
reaiy to be eaten. 

‘ We now remembered that we had neither plates, 


A VRRY LEAN BUFFALO. 10,^ 

glasses, knives, forks, nor spoons. Yes, Cudjo and 1 
had our hunting knives; and, as it was no time to 
be nice, with these we fished the pieces of meat and 
some of the beans out of the soup pot, and placed 
them upon a clean, flat stone. For the soup itself, 
we immersed the lower part of the pot into the cool 
water of the stream, so that in a short time Mary 
and the children could apply the edge of it to their 
lips, and drink of it in turn. 

“ As for Cudjo arid myself, we did not want any 
of the soup. We were altogether for the ‘substan- 
tials.’ 

“ I thought, at first, I should have all the arma- 
dillo to myself. Even Cudjo, who, in ‘ ole Vaginny,’ 
had bolted ’coons, ’possums, and various other ‘ var- 
mints,’ for a long time hung back. Seeing, however, 
that I was eating with evident relish, he held out his 
sable paw, and desired me to help him to a small 
piece. Having once tasted it, the ice of his appetite 
seemed to be all at once broken, and he kept asking 
for more, and then for more, until I began to fear 
he would not leave me enough for my own supper. 

“ Neither Mary nor the boys, however, would con- 
sent to share with us, although I assured them, what 
was positively the fact, that what I was eating was 
equal in delicacy of flavor to the finest roast pig — a 
dish, by the way, to which the armadillo bears a verv 
great resemblance. 


104 


A VERY LEAN BUFFAT.n 


“ The sun was now setting, and we began to think 
how we were to pass the night. We had left all oui 
blankets in the wagon, and the air was fast becoming 
cold, which is always the case in the neighborhood 
cf snowy mountains. This is easily explained. The 
atmosphere getting cool upon the peak, where il 
envelops the snow, of course becomes heavier, and 
keeps constantly descending around the base of the 
mountain, and pushing up and out that air which ia 
warmer and lighter. In fact, there was a sensible 
breeze blowing down the sides of the mountain, 
caused by these natural laws, and it had already 
made us chilly, after the burning heat through which 
we had been travelling. Should we sleep in this 
cold atmosphere, — even though we kept up a fire 
during the whole night, — I knew that we must suffer 
much. 

“ The thought now entered into my mind that I 
might , go back to the wagon — which was only five 
miles off — and bring up our blankets. Should I go 
myself? or send Cudjo? or should both of us go? 
All at once the idea entered my head that one of us 
might ride there, and bring back a load of other 
articles, as well as the blankets. Our horse, who 
had been filling himself for the last hour and a half 
with good grass and water, now began to show symp- 
toms of life and vigor. Animals of Lhis kind soon 
recover from fatigue when their food and drink are 


A VERY LEAN BUFFALO. 


105 


r*'.dlcred lu them. 1 saw that he would be quite aole 
to do the journey ; so I gave Cudjo directions to catch 
him. There happened to be a piece of rope around 
his neck, and this would serve for a bridle. I hesi- 
tated for some ^time whether both Cudjo and 1 
should leave Mary and the children ; but my wufe 
urged us to go, telling us she would have no fear, as 
j.ong as Harry and Frank, with their rifles, remained 
with her. The dogs, too, would stay. Indeed, 
there was not much danger of them leaving her, 
while she held in her arms the little Luisa, whom 
both these animals seemed to watch over. 

“ Influenced by her advice, I consented to leave 
her alone with the children ; and, giving directions 
that they should fire off one of the rifles, in case 
of any alarm, I set forth with Cudjo and the horse. 

“ We could see the white tilt of the wagon from 
the very start ; and we had no difficulty in guiding 
ourselves to it. 

“ As we passed onward, I was reflecting whether 
the wolves had not already made a meal of our poor 
ox that we had left by the wagon. If not, it wa.s 
my intention to skin him, and save the meat, lean 
and tough as it must be — for the animal looked 
more like some dry skeleton to be preserved in a 
museum than any thing else. Still I saw before us 
no prospect of a better breakfast, and I began to 
grow very anxious as to whether we might find a 


106 


A VERY LEAN BUFFALO. 


bit of him left. At this moment, I was startled fiom 
my reflections by an exclamation from Cudjo, who 
had stopped suddenly, and was pointing to some 
object directly ahead of us. I looked forward, ind 
saw in the dim light something that very much re» 
sembled a large quadruped. 

“ ‘ P’raps, Massa,’ whispered Cudjo, ‘ him be de 
huffier.’ 

“ ‘ Perhaps it is a buffalo ; but what is to be 
done ? I have left my rifle. Here, take the horse, 
and I will endeavor to get near enough to kill it 
with my pistols.’ 

“ Giving Cudjo the horse, and cautioning him to 
be silent, I drew the largest of my pistols, and crept 
silently forward. I went upon my hands and knees, 
and very slowly, so as not to give the animal an 
alarm. As I got nearer, I felt sure it was a buf- 
falo ; but the moon had not yet risen, and I could 
see its form but very indistinctly. At length, I be- 
lieved I had it within range of my pistol. ‘ At least,’ 
thought I, ‘ if I go any nearer, it will make oflT;’ so 
I halted, — still upon my knees, — and made ready to 
6re. As I raised my weapon, the horse suddenly 
neighed ; and, in answer to his neigh, the strange 
animal uttered a loud roar, which I knew to be 
nothing else than the bellowing of an ox. AnJ 
io it proved, as it was neither more nor less than 
our own ox, who had left the wagon, and way 


A VERY lean buffalo. 


107 


Slowly making his way for the mountain. Tlie coo, 
air had somewhat revived him, and instinct, or a 
knowledge of the way we had gone, was guiding 
him in that direction. 

“ I know not whether I was more pleased or dis- 
appointed at meeting our old companion. A good 
fat buffalo wo«ld have been more welcome at the 
time than a famished ox ; but when I reflected that 
he might yet help us to get out of the desert, I felt 
that we were fortunate in finding him still alive. The 
horse and he put their noses together, evidently 
pleased at again meeting each other; and I could 
not help thinking, as the ox shook his long tail, that 
the horse must have told him of the nice grass and 
water that were so near him. The ox had his 
reins upon him, and, lest he might stray from the 
track, we tied him to a sage bush, so that we might 
take him with us when we came back. 

“ We were about leaving him, when it occurred 
to me, that, if the ox only had a little water, he 
might, along with the horse, enable us to bring the 
wagon up to the mountain. What a delightful sur- 
prise it would be to Mary, to see us return with 
ox, wagon, and all — not only the blankets, but 
also our cups, pans, and cooking pots, besides some 
coffee, and other little luxuries, that we -e stored 
away in our great chest ! ‘ Ha ! ’ thought I, ‘ tiial 

would be delightful ; ’ and I immediately communV 


108 


A VERY LEAN BUFFALO. 


Bated the idea to Cudjo. My companion full^ 
agreed with me, and believed it quite possible and 
practicable. We had brought along with us the 
tin pot, full of cool water from the stream; but it 
was too narrow at the mouth, and the ox could not 
possibly drink out of it. 

“ ‘ Let us gib it, Massa Roff,’ advised Cudjo, 
in de ole boss bucket, once we gets ’im back to 
de wagon. Ya ! ya ! we gib Missa an abstonish- 
ment.’ And my light-hearted companion laughed 
with delight at the prospect of making his mistress 
happy on cur return. 

“ Without further parley, we unloosed the reign 
from the sage bush, and led the ox back towards 
the wagon. Neither of us rode the horse, as we 
knew he would have enough to do in dragging up 
his share of the load. 

“ On reaching the wagon, we found every thing 
as we had left it ; but several large, white wolves 
were prowling around, and, no doubt, it had been 
the sight of them that had roused the ox, and im 
parted to him the energy that had enabled him to 
get away from the spot. 

“ We soon found the bucket ; and, pouring the 
water into it, set it before the ox, who drank every 
drop of it, and then licked the sides and bottom 
of the vessel until they were quite dry. We now 
hitched to both animals ; and, without mv'.re 


A VERl LEAN BUFFALO. 


109 


ado, dro\e off towards our little camp at the 
mountain. 

“We guided ourselves 5y the fire, which we could 
see burning brightly under the dark shadow of the 
cliffs. Its blaze had a cheering effect on the spirits 
both of my companion and myself ; and even the 
horse and ox seemed to understand that it w'ould 
be the end of their journey, and pressed forward with 
alacrity to reach it. 

“ When within about half a mile, I heard the report 
of a rifle ringing among the rocks. I was filled with 
alarm. Were Mary and the children attacked by 
Indians ? — perhaps by some savage animal ? — per- 
haps by the grisly bear .? 

“I did not hesitate a moment, but ran forward, 
leaving Cudjo with the wagon. I drew my pistol, and 
held it in readiness as I advanced, all the while listen- 
ing eagerly to catch every sound that might come 
from the direction of the fire. Once or twice 1 
stopped for short intervals to breathe and listen ; but 
there were no noises from the camp. What could 
i>e the meaning of the silence Where were the 
dogs ? I knew that, had they been attacked by a 
grisly bear, or any other animal, 1 should have 
neard their barks and worrying. But there was not 
a sound. Had they been kilhd all at once by 
Jidian arrows, so silent in their deadly effect ? 0 

God ! had my wife and children, too, fallen victims/ 

10 


no 


A VERY LEAN BUFFALf* 


“ Filled with painful apprehensions, 1 ran forward 
with increased energy, determined to rush into the 
midst of the enemy, whoever they might be, and se3. 
my life as dearly as possible. 

At length, I came within ful- view of the fire. 
What was my astonishment, as well as joy, on 
seeing my wife sitting by the blaze, with little Luisa 
upon her knee, while Mary was playing upon the 
ground at her fpet ! But where were Harry and 
Frank ? It was quite incomprehensible. I knew 
that they would not have fired the rifle to alarm me 
unnecessarily ; yet there sat Mary, as though no rifle 
had been fired. 

“ ‘ What was it, dear Mary ’ I cried, running up. 
‘ Where are the boys ? They discharged the rifle ; 
did they not ? ’ 

“ ‘ They did,’ she replied ; ‘ Harry fired at some- 
thing.’ 

“ ‘ At what ? at what } ’ I inquired. 

“ ‘ At some animal, I know not what kind ; but ) 
think they must have wounded it, for they all ran 
out, dogs and all, after the shot, and have not yet 
come back.’ 

“ ‘ In what direction ^ ’ I asked, hurriedly. 

“ Mary pointed out the direction ; and, without 
waiting further, I ran oflf into the darkness. When 
about a hundred yards from the fire, I came upon 
Harry, Frank, and the mastiffs, standing over some 


A VERY LEAN BUFFALO. 


in 


dnim?l which I saw was quite dead. Harry was no 
a little proud of the shot he had made, and expectea 
me to congratulate him, which of course I did ; and 
laying hold of the animal by one of its hind legs, — 
for it had no tail to lay hold of, — I dragged it forward 
to the light of the fire. It appeared to be about the 
size of a sucking calf, though much more elegantly 
shaped, for its legs were long and slender, and its 
'hanks not thicker than a common walking cane. It 
was of a pale-red color, whitish along the breast and 
belly, but its large, languishing eyes and slender fork- 
ing horns told me at once what sort of animal it was ; 
it was the prong-horned antelope — the only species 
of antelope found in North America. 

“ Mary now ''elated the adventure. While they 
were sitting silently by the fire, and somewhat im- 
patiently awaiting our return, — for the wagon had 
delayed us considerably, — they saw a pair of large 
eyes glancing in the darkness like two candles, and 
not many yards from where they sat. They could 
Bee nothing but the eyes ; but this of itself was suffi- 
cient to alarm them, as they fancied it might be a 
wolf, or, perhaps, still worse — a bear or panther. 
They did not lose presence of mind, however; and 
they knew that to escape by running away would be 
impossible*; so both Frank and Harry took hold of 
heir rifles — though Harry was foremost with his. 
He then aimed, as well as he could, between the two 


112 


A VERY LEAh BUFFALO. 


glancing eyes, and pulled the trigger. Of course tht 
smoke blinded them, and in the darkness they couia 
not tel’ whether the bullet had hit the animal or not 
out the dogs — who up to this time had been sleeping 
by the fire — sprang to their feet, and ran out in 
pursuit. They could hear them • running for seme 
distance, and then they heard a scramble and a strug* 
gle, and then they were silent; so they concluded — 
wha. afterwards proved to be the case — that Harry 
had ''Wounded the animal, and that the dogs had 
caught and were worrying it. And so they were, for 
IS the boys got to the spot they had just killed it ; 
and, hungry as they were, would soon have madv a 
meal of it, had Frank and Harry not got up in good 
time to take care of that. The antelope had been 
shot in the shoulder, and had only run for a short 
distance before it fell. 

“ Although Harry did not boast of his prowess, 1 
saw that he had a triumphant look — the more so as 
this fine piece of venison would insure us all against 
hunger for three days at the least ; and, considering 
that only an hour before we did not know where the 
next meal was to come from, it was certainly no 
smali matter to be proud of. I thought just then of 
the surprise I had prepared for them, not only in 
bringing up the wagon which contained all.oiir utensils 
and comforts, but in the recovery of our best ox. 

“‘Where is Cudjo?’ asked my wife. ‘Is he 
bringing the blankets/' 


A VERY LEAN UUFFALO. 


113 


'*‘Yes,’ said I, knowingly, ‘and a good loaa be 
sides.’ ^ 

“ At that moment was heard the creaking of 
wheels, and the great tilt of white canvas was seen, 
far out, reflecting back the blaze of the fire. Frank 
leaped to his feet, and clapping his hands with de» 
light, cried out, — 

- “ ‘ Mamma ! mamma ! it is the wagon ! ’ 

“ Then was heard the loud voice of Cudjo, in a 
joyous ‘ Wo-ha ! ’ and the moment after, the horse 
and ox stepped up to the fire as lightly as if the pull 
had been a mere bagatelle, and they could have stood 
it a hundred miles farther without flinching. We 
were not slow in relieving both of them from their 
• traces, and giving them a full swing at the grass and 
water. 

“As it was now late in the night, and we were all 
very tired from the fatigues we had undergone, we 
determined to lose no time in going to rest. Mary 
went to prepare a bed in the wagon — for this was 
our only tent ; and a very excellent tent it was, too. 
At the same time, Ciidjo and I set about skinning the 
antelope, so that we might have it in fine order for 
our breakfast in the morning. The dogs, too, were 
interested in this operation — for they, poor brutes ! 
up to this time, had fared worse than any of us. 
However, the head, feet, and intestines fell ;o theii 
share ; and they soon had a supper to their hearts 
10 * - K 


114 


A VER\ LEAN BUFFALI . 


content. Having finished skinning the antelope, wo 
tied a rope to its legs, and slung it up to the branch 
of a tree, high enough to be out of the reach of 
wolves, as well as our own dogs, during the night. 

“ Mary had by this time completed the arrange- 
ments for our sleeping, and but one thing more 
remained to be done before retiring to rest. That 
was a duty which we never neglected, when circum- 
stances admitted of its being performed. Mary knew 
this, and had brought out of the wagon the only book 
which it contained — the Bible. Cudjo turned up 
the pine logs upon the fire, and, seating ourselves 
around the blaze, I read from the sacred book those 
passages which were most appropriate to our own 
situation — how God had preserved Moses and th6 
children of Israel in the desert wilderness. 

“ Then, with clasped hands and grateful hearts, 
we all knelt, and offered thanks for our own almost 
niraculous deliverance.” 


THE BIGHORNS. 


115 


CHAPTER XII 

THE BIGHORNS. 

‘ Next morning we were up by the earliest break 
of day, and had the pleasure of witnessing a beautiM 
phenomenon in the sunrise. The whole country, to 
the east, as far as we could see, was a level plain ; 
and the horizon, of course, resembled that of the 
ocean when calm. As the great yellow globe of the 
Bun appeared above it, one could have fancied that 
he was rising out of the earth itself, although he was 
more than ninety millions of miles distant from any 
part of it. It was a beautiful sky, into which the sun 
was slowly climbing up. It was of a pale-blue color, 
and without the smallest cloud — for on these high 
table plains, in the interior of America, you may 
oPen travel for days without seeing a cloud as big as 
a kite We were all in better spirits, for we had 
rested well, and had no longer any fear of being 
followed by the savages who had massacred our com- 
panions. They would have been fools, indeed, to 
have made that dreadful journey for all they could 
have gotten from us. Moreover, the sight of oui 


116 


THE BIGHORNS. 


anteV pe, with its nice, yellow fat, crisped by the cold 
night air, was any thing but disheartening. As Cudjo 
was a dexterous b atcher, I allowed him to quarter it, 
while I shouldered the axe and marched off to the 
mountain foot, to procure more wood for the fire. 
Mary was busy among her pots, pans, and platters, 
scouring and washing them all in the deal stream, 
for the dust of the barren plains had blown into the 
wagon as we marched, and had formed a thick coat- 
ing over the vessels. Fortunately, we had a good 
stock of these utensils, consisting of a gridiron, a 
large camp kettle, a couple of mess pans, a baking 
dish, a first-rate coffee pot and mill, half a dozen tin 
cups and plates, with an assortment of knives, forks, 
and spoons. All these things we had laid in at St. 
Louis, by the advice of our Scotch friend, who knew 
very well what articles were required for a journey 
across the desert. 

“ I was not long in getting the wood, and our fire 
was soon replenished and blazing brightly. Mary 
attended to the coffee, which she parched in one of 
the mess pans, and then ground in the mill. I 
handled the gridiron and broiled the venison steaks, 
while Cudjo collected a large supply of locust beans 
and roasted them These last were to serve us for 
bread, as we had neither meal nor flour. The supply 
we had brought from St. Louis had been exhausted 
several days before, and we had lived altogether upor 


THE BIGHORNS. 


in 

dried beef and coffee. Of this last article we were 
very sparing, as we had not over a pound of it eft,, 
and it was our most precious luxury. We haa no 
sugar whatever, nor cream ; but we did not mind the 
want of either, as those who travel in the wilderness 
find coffee very palatable without them — peihapa 
quite as much so as it is when mixed with the whitest 
of sugar and the yellowest of cream, to the pam- 
pered appetites of those who Ijve always at home. 
But, after all, wei should not have to drink our coffee 
without sweetening, as I observed that Frank, while 
extracting the beans of the locust, was also scraping 
the honeyed pulp from the pods, and putting it to one 
side. He had already collected nearly a plateful 
Well done, Frank ! 

“ The great mess chest had been lifted out of the 
wagon, and the lid of this, with a cloth spread over 
it, served us for a table. For seats, we had rolled 
several large stones around the chest, and upon these 
we sat, drinking the delicious coffee, and eating the 
savory steaks of venison. 

“ While we were thus pleasantly engaged, I ob- 
served Cudjo suddenly rolling the whites of his eyes 
upwards, at the same time exclaiming, — 

“ ‘ Golly ! Missa — Massa — lookee yonder ! ’ 

“ The rest of us turned quickly round — for we 
had been sitting with our backs to the mountain — 
and looked in the direction indicated by Cudjo 


THE BIGHO’lWa. 


ns 

There were high cliffs fronting us, and along the face 
of these, five large, reddish objects were moving, so 
fast, that I at first thought they were birds upon the 
wing. After watching them a moment, however 1 
saw that they were quadrupeds ; but so nimbly did 
they go, leaping from ledge to ledge, that it was im- 
possible to see their limbs. They appeared to be 
animals of the deer saecies — somewhat larger than 
sheep or goats ; but we could see that, in place of 
antlers, each of them had a pair of huge, curving 
horns. As they leaped downward, fpom one platform 
of the cliffs to another, we fancied that they whirled 
about in the air, as though they were turning som- 
ersets, and seemed at times to come down heads 
foremost. 

“ There was a spur of the cliff that sloped down 
to within less than a hundred yards of the place 
where we sat. It ended in an abrupt precipice of 
some sixty or seventy feet in height above the plain. 
The animals, on reaching the level of this spur, ran 
along it until they had arrived at its end. Seeing the 
precipice, they suddenly stopped, as if to reconnoitre 
it ; and we had now a full view of them, as they stood 
outlined against the sky, with their graceful limbs, and 
great, curved horns, almost as large as their bodies. 
We thought, of course, they could get no farther foi 
the precipice ; and I was calculating whether my rifle 
which I had laid hold of, would reach them at tha 


THE B^GHORNtS. 


113 


distance. All at once, to our astonishment, the fore- 
most sprang out from the cliff, and, whirling through 
the air, lit upon his head on the hard plain below 
We could see that he came down upon his horns, and 
rebounding up again to the height of several feet, he 
turned a second somerset, and then dropped upon 
his legs, and stood still. Nothing daunted, the rest 
followed, one after the other, in quick succession, like 
so many street tumblers ; and like them, after the feat 
had been performed, the animals stood for a moment, 
as if waiting for applause. 

“ The spot where they had dropped was not more 
than fifty paces from our camp ; but I was so aston- 
ished at the tremendous leap, that I quite forgot the 
rifle I held in my hands. The animals, too, seemed 
equally astonished upon discovering us, which they 
did now for the first time. The yelping of the dogs 
who rushed forward at the moment, brought me to 
myself again, as it did the strangers to a sense of 
ineir dangerous proximity; and, wheeling suddenly 
they bounded back for the mountain. I fired aftei 
them at random ; but we all supposed without effect 
as the whole five kept on to the foot of the mountain, 
followed by the dogs. Presently they commenced 
ascending, as though they had wings ; but we noticed 
that one of them hung in the rear, and seemed to 
leap upward with difficulty. Upon this one our eyes 
became fixed, as we now fancied it was wounded 


120 


THE BIGHOKNS. 


We were right in this. The rest soon disappeared 
"OUt of sight ; but that which lagged behind, on leap- 
ing for a high ledge, came short in the attempt, and 
rolled backward down the face of the mountain. 
The next moment, we saw him struggling between the 
mastiffs. 

“ Cudjo, Frank, and Harry ran together up the 
steep, and soon returned, bringing the animal along 
ivith them, quite dead, as the dogs had put an end to 
him. It was a good load for Cudjo ; and proved, 
upon closer acquaintance, to be as large as a fallow 
deer. From the huge, wrinkled horns, and other 
marks, I knew it to be the argali^ or wild sheep, 
known among hunters by the name of the ‘ bighorn,’ 
and sometimes spoken \pf in books as the ‘ Rocky 
Mountain sheep ; ’ although, in its general appearance, 
it looked more like an immense yellow goat, or deer, 
with a pair of rams’ horns stuck upon his head. We 
knew, however, it was not bad to eat, especially to 
people in our circumstances ; and, as soon as we had 
finished our breakfast, Cudjo and I whetted our knives, 
and having removed the skin, hung up the carcass 
alongside the remainder of the antelope. The dogs, 
for their pains, had a breakfast to their satisfaction ; 
and the rest of us, seeing so much fresh meat hang- 
ing to the tree, with a cool stream of water running 
beneath it, began to fancy we were mite delivered 
fi-om the desert. . 



knAnYimi 





THE BIGHORNS. 


' 

“ We now sat «Jown together to delibeiato oa oui 
future proceedings. Between the argali and the ‘ante* 
lope, we had provision enough to last us for a week 
at least ; but when that was done, what likelihood 
was there of our procuring a further supply of either ? 
* Not much,’ thought we ; for, although there might be 
A few more antelopes and a few more ‘ bighorns ’ 
about the place, there could not be many with so 
little appearance of any thing for them to feed on. 
Moreover, we might not find it so easy to kill any 
more of them ; for those we had already shot seemed 
to have fallen in our way by chance,' or — as we more 
properly believed at the time, and still believe — by 
the guiding of a |)rovidential hand. But we knew it 
was not right or wise to rely altogether on this — that 
is, we knew it was our duty, while trusting in its 
guidance, at the same time to make every effort which 
lay in our own power to save ourselves. When our 
present supply should be exhausted, where was the 
next to come from ? We could not always live upon 
armadilloes, and argalis, and antelopes, even sup- 
posing they were as plenty as the rocks. But the 
chances were ten to one we should get no more of 
them. Our ox, in a week, would have improved ia 
condition. He would sustain us for a time ; and then, 
our horse — and then — and then — the dogs — and 
then — we should starve to a certainty. 

Any of these necessities was sufficiently feartid 

11 i. 


122 


THE BIGHORNS. 


lo contemplate. Should we kill our ox, we would bfl 
unable to take the w'agon along ; and how could the 
norse carry us all out of the desert.^ If we th<;ii 
killed the horse, we should be still worse off, and ut- 
terly helpless on foot. No man can cross the Great 
Desert on foot — not even the hunters; and how 
could we do it ? To remain where we were would 
be impossible. There were a few patches of vegeta- 
tion on the different runlets that filtered away from 
the mountain foot. There were clumps of willows 
growing along these, but not enough of grass to sup- 
port any stock of game upon which we could live, 
even were we certain of being able to capture it. It 
was evident, then, to us all, that we should have to get 
away from that place as speedily as possible. 

“ The next point to be determined was, whether 
the desert extended away to the south, as we alreadj 
knew that it did to the north. To ascertain this, I 
resolved to go around the mountain, leaving the rest 
\t the camp until my return. 

“ Our horse was now rested, and well fed ; and 
h?ving saddled him, and shouldered my rille, I 
mounted and rode off I kept around the mountain 
fcot, going by the eastern end. I crossed several 
rivulets resembling the one on which we had en- 
camped, and noticed that all these turned off towards 
the eastward, making their way to a mam stream. In 
this direction, too, I saw a few stunted trees, w’ h 


\>{E BIGI )RNS. 


123 


here anil the»tj an appearance of greenness on 
surface. On the way, I saw an antelope, and anolher 
animal resembling a deer, but differing from all the 
deer I had ever seen, in having a long tail like a cow 
I knew not at the time what sort of an animal it was, 
as I had never met with any description of it in books 
of natural history. 

“ After riding about five miles, I had fairly got 
round to the east side of the mountain, and could 
view the country away to the south. As far as my 
sight could reach, I saw nothing but an open plain 

— if possible, more sterile in its character than thai 
which stretched northward. The only direction in 
which there were any signs of fertility was to the 
east, and that was but in patches of scanty vege- 
tation. 

“ It was j. cheerless prospect. We should now 
certainly have a desert to cross before we could get 
to any inhabited country. To strike eastwardly 
again, for the American frontier, — circumstanced aa 
we were, without provisions and with worn-out cattle, 

— would be madness, as the distance was at least 
eight hundred miles. Besides, I knew there were 
many hostile tribes of Indians living on that route ; 
so that, even should the country prove fertile, we 
could never hope to get through it. To go north- 
ward or southward would be equally impossible, as 
there was no civilized settlement for a thousand 


I!i4 THE BIGHORNS. 

miles in either direction. Our only iiope, then, 
would be, to attempt crossing the desert westw^ard- 
ly to the Mexican settlements on the Del Norte — 
a distance of nearly two hundred miles. To do 
this, we should need first to rest our ill-matched 
team for several days. \Ve should also require 
provisions enough for the route ; and how were 
these to be obtained ‘ Again,’ thought I, ‘ we must 
trust to Providence, who has already so manifestly 
extended a helping hand to us.’ 

I observed that the mountain on the southern 
face descended with an easier slope towards the 
plain than upon the north, where it is bold and 
precipitous. From this I concluded that a greater 
quantity of snow must be melted and run off in 
that direction. ‘ Doubtless, then,’ thought I, ‘ there 
will be a greater amount of fertility on that side and 
I continued to ride on, until I came in sight of the 
grove of willows and cotton trees which line the 
stream above the valley here. I soon reached them, 
and saw that there was a stream with considerable 
pasturage near its borders — much more than where 
we had encumped. I tied my horse to a tree, and 
climbed some distance up the mountain, in order to 
get- a view of the country south and west. 1 had 
not got to a great height when I caught sight of 
the singular chasm that seemed to open up u. the 
plain. I was attracted with this peculiarity, and 


THE BIGHORNS. 


125 


determined to examine it. Descending again to 
where I had left my horse, I mounted, and rode 
straight for it. In a short time I stood upon the 
brink of the piecipice, and looked down into this 
smiling valley. 

“ I cannot describe my sensations at that mo- 
ment. Only they whose eyes have been bent for 
days on the sterile wilderness can feel the full 
effect produced by a scene of fertility such as there 
presented itself. It was late in the autumn, and the 
woods that lay below me — clad in all the varie- 
gated livery of that season — looked like some 
richly-colored picture. The music of birds ascended 
from the groves below, wafted upward upon the 
perfumed and aromatic air ; and the whole scene 
appeared more like a fabled Elysium than a reality 
of nature. I could hardly satisfy myself that I was 
not dreaming, or looking upon some fantastic hal- 
lucination of the mirage. 

“ I stood for many minutes in a sort of trance 
gazing down into the lovely valley. I could observe 
no signs of human habitation. No smoke rose over 
the trees, and no noises issued forth, except the 
voices of nature, uttered in the songs of the birds 
and the hum of falling waters. It seemed as though 
man had never desecrated this isolated paradise by 
bis presence and passions. 

** I say I stood for many minutes gazing and 
11 * 


126 


THE BIGHORNS. 


listening. I could have remained for hours ; but 
the sinking sun admonished me to hasten away. * 
was nearly twenty miles from our camp, and my 
horse was neither strong nor fresh. Determined, 
therefore, to return on the morrow, bringing with 
me my companions and all that belonged to us, 1 
*urned my horse's head and rode back. It was late 
in the night — near midnight — when I reached 
camp. I found every thing as I had left it, except 
that Mary was in great anxiety about what had de- 
layed me so long. But my return, and the discovery 
which I communicated, soon restored her spirits ; and 
We laid out our plans for changing our camp to the 
valley, determined to set forth at an early hour ic 
die morning.” 


CHAFl'ER XIIL 


THE GREAT ELK 

** Wii were stirring by sunrise next morning, and 
having breakfasted heartily, we packed our wagon 
and started away from our camp, which >^e had 
named ‘ Camp Antelope.’ The stream we called 
Bighorn Creek ’ ever afterwards. We arrived at 
ihe upper end of the valley about an hour before 
•unset.. Here we passed the night. Next day I 
started out to find some path by which we might 
g* t down into the bottom. I rode for miles along 
the edge of the bluff, but to my surprise I found 
that on both sides ran a steep precipice, and I began 
to fear that the tempting paradise was inaccessible, 
and had only been created to tantalize us. At 
length I reached the lower end, where, as you have 
noticed, the precipice is much less elevated, on ac- 
count of the sloping of the upper plain. Here I 
came upon a path winding gradually down, upon 
which I saw the footmarks of animals of various 
kinds. This ^as exactly what I wanted. 

“In this valley we could remain until oui cattle 


128 


THE GREAT EEK 


were sufficiently recruited to face the desert, while 
with our rifles we should be able to procure a 
sufficient stock of provisions for the journey. 

“ I started back for the wagon ; but as I had con- 
sumed most of the day iV.my explorations, it was 
lite when I reached it; and we remained another 
night at our camp on the stream, which we named 
the ‘ Willow Camp.’ 

“ Next " morning, we started early. On arriving 
at the point where the path led down, we halted the 
wagon. Mary and the children remained with it, 
while Cudjo and I descended into the valley to 
reconnoitre. The woods were quite thick, the trees 
apparently all bound together by huge vines, that 
stretched from one to the other like immense ser- 
pents. There was a thick undergrowth of cane ; but 
we saw that a trail had been made through this by 
the passage of numerous animals. There were no 
human footmarks to be seen, nor any signs that a 
human bein^ had ever been upon the spot. 

“ We followed the trail that led us directly to the 
banks of the stream. It was then very shallow, and 
a great . part of its shi/igly bed was dry. I saw that 
this would aflbrd a good road for our wagon, and we 
kept on up the channel. About three miles from 
the lower end of the valley, we came to a place 
where the woods were more open, asd less choked 
up with underwood On the right bank of the streane 


THE GREAT ELK. 


12S 


ihere was a rising ground, forming a clear space ol 
large extent, with only a tree growing here and there 
This ground sloped gently down to the stream, am, 
was covered with beautiful herbage, both grass and 
flowers. It was a lovely spot ; and as we came sud- 
denly out upon it, several animals,^ frightened by out 
approach, bounded off into the thickets heyond. We 
stopped for a moment to gaze upon the bright pic- 
ture. Birds of brilliant wing were fluttering among 
the many-colored leaves, singing o; screaming, and 
chasing each other from tree to tree. There were 
parrots, and paroquets, and orioles, and blue jays, 
and beautiful loxias, both of the scarlet and azure- 
colored species. There were butterflies, too, with 
broad wings, mottled all over with the most vivid 
tints, flapping about from flower to flower. Many of 
these were as large as some of the birds, and fai 
larger than others ; for we saw flocks of tiny hum- 
mingbirds, not bigger than bees, shooting about like 
sparkling gems, and balancing themselves over the 
cups of the open flowers. 

“ It was a beautiful scene, indeed ; and Cudjo 
and I at once agreed that that was the very place to 
pitch our camp. At the time, we meant it only for 
a camp — a spot where we might remain until oui 
animals had recruited their strength, and we had 
collected from the forests around provision enough 
for the desert journey. A temporary camp, indeed ■ 


130 


THE GREAT ELK. 


That, gentlemen, is ten years ago, and here we aie 
upon the same spot at this moment ! Yes, my 
friends, this house stands in the middle of that veiy 
glade I ^ave been describing. You will be surpnsed, 
when I tell you there was no lake then, nor tVA 
appearance of one. That came afterwards, as you 
shall hear. 

‘‘ What the lake now is, was then part of the 
glade ; and its surface, like the rest, was covered 
with beautiful vegetation, with here and there trees 
standing alone, and in small clumps, which gave it a 
most park-like appearance. In fact, we could not 
help fancying that there was some splendid mansion 
in the background to which it belonged, although 
we saw that the thick, dark woods surrounded it on 
all sides. 

“We did not remain longer than was necessary to 
examine the ground. We knew that Mary would be 
anxiously looking for us, so we hastened back to our 
wagon. In less than three hours from that time, 
the wagon, with its snow-white tilt, stood in the 
centre of the glade, and the ox and horse, loosed 
from their labor, were eagerly browsing over the rich 
pasture. The children were playing on the green- 
sward, under the shadow of a spreading magnolia, 
while Mary, Cudjo, the boys, and myself were en- 
gaged in various occupations about the ground. The 
birds flew around us, chattering and screaming, to 


THE GREAT ELK. 


131 


me great delight of o^oT little ones. They came quite 
close to our encampment, perching upon the nearest 
trees, and wondering, nc doubt, what strange crea- 
tures we were, who had thus intruded upon their 
hitherto untenanted domain. I was glad to see thena 
thus curious about us, as I argued from this that the 
sight of man was new to them, and, therefore, we 
should be in no danger of meeting with any of our 
own kind in the valley. It is strange, that, of all 
others, man was the animal we most dreaded to 
meet. Yet such was the case ; for we knew that 
any human beings we might fall in with in such a 
place would be Indians, and, in all probability, would 
prove our mosUcruel enemies. 

“ It was still early in the afternoon, and we deter* 
mined to do nothing for the remainder of that day 
but rest ourselves, as we had all experienced consid- 
erable fatigue in getting our wagon up the stream 
Rocks had to be removed, and occasionally a way 
hewed through the thick branches. But the diffi- 
culty being now over, we felt as though we had 
reached a home, and we set about enjoying it. 
Cudjo built a fire, and erected a crane over it, upon 
which to hang our pots and kettles. The crane con- 
sisted of two forked sticks driven into the ground, 
one on each side of the fire, with a long pole placea 
horizontally, and resting upon the forks. This is 
the usual manner of making the crane among back* 


132 


THE GREAT ELK. 


woods’ travellers, who cook their meals in the open 
air. The tripod crane, used by gypsies in Europe, 
is rarely to be seen among the \\andereis of the 
American wilderness. 

“ lu a short lime, our camp kettle, filled with pure 
water, was boiling and bubbling to receive the aro- 
matic coffee ; and the remainder of the antelope, 
suspended over the fire, was roasting and sputtering 
in the blaze. Mary had set out the great chest, cov* 
ered with a clean, white cloth — for she had washed 
It the day before ; and upon this, our tin plates and 
cups — scoured until they were shining like silver — 
were regularly arranged. When all these little pre- 
parations had been made, we seated ourselves around 
the fire, and watched the dainty venison as it became 
browned and crisped in the blaze. Cudjo had sus- 
])ended the joint by a piece of strong cord, so that, 
by simply whirling it around, it would then continue 
for some time turning itself, as well as if it had been 
upon a patent jackspit. We were congratulating 
ourselves on the fine supper we were likely soon 
to partake of, when all at once our attention was 
directed to a noise that came out of the woods, near 
the border of the open ground. There was a rustling 
of leaves, with a cracking sound as of dead sticks 
broken by the hoofs of some heavy animal. All oui 
eyes were immediately turned in that direction. 
Presently we saw the leaves in motion, and the next 


THE GREAT ELK. 


133 


aiomem three large animals stepped out into the 
glade, ajparently with the intention of cxcssing it 

“ At first sight we thought they were deer, foi 
each of them carried a pair of branching antlers ; but 
their great size at once distinguished thorn from any 
of the deer species we had ever seen. Any one of 
them was as large as a Flemish ho/se, and their 
huge antlers, rising several feet above their heads, 
gave them the appearance of being still much larger. 
On seeing the branched and towering horns, we took 
them for deer — and in fact they were so; but far 
differing from either the red or fallow deer that are tc 
be met with in parks and forests. They were elk 
the great elk of the Rocky Mountains. 

“ On coming out of the timber, they marched for 
ward, one after the other, with a proud step; that 
showed the confidence they placed in their great size 
and strength, as well as in the pointed * weapons 
which they carried upon their heads, and which thej 
can use upon an enemy with terrible effect. Then 
appearance was extremely majestic ; and we all ad* 
mired them in silence as they approached, for they 
came directly towards our camp. 

“ At length they caught sight of our wagon ana 
fire — neither of which objects, up to this time, they 
had seen. All at once they halted, tossed up iheif 
heads, snorted, and then continued for some mo- 
ments to gaze at us with an expression of wonder 
12 


134 


THE GREAT ELK. 


“ ‘ They will be off, now,’ I muttered in an under- 
tone to my wife and Cudjo. ‘ No doubt they will 
be off in a moment, and they are entirely out of 
T.ach of my rifle.’ 

“ I had caught hold of the gun on first seeing 
them, and held it in readiness across my knees 
Harry and Frank had also seized their small pieces. 

‘ What pity, Massa Roff,’ said Cudjo, ‘ de big 
rifle no reach ’em ! Golly ! de be ebery om* fat 
as Vaginny ’possum ! ’ 

“ I was thinking whether I might not creep a little 
closer to them, when, to our surprise, the animals, 
instead of starting off into the woods again, came 
several paces nearer, and again halted, tossing up 
their heads with a snort similar to that which they 
had uttered before. I say that this astonished all of 
us, for we had heard that the elk was an exceedingly 
shy animal. So, too, they are, of any danger to 
which they are accustomed ; but, like most ofi* the 
deer and antelope jtribe, their curiosity is greater 
than their fear, and they will approach any object 
which may be new to them, and examine it minutely, 
before running off. I saw that curiosity had- brought 
them so much closer to us ; and, thinking they might 
advance still nearer, I cautioned my companions to 
remain silert and without making any stir 

“ The wagon, with its great white tilt appeared to 
b® the main attraction to our strange visitors; and, 


THE GREAT ELK. 


1H5 


aftef eyeing it a moment with looks of wonder, they 
again moved several paces forward, and stopped as 
before, A third time they advanced towards it, and 
again made halt. 

“ As the wagon was at some distance from where 
we were sitting by the fire, their movements towards 
it brought their great sides somewhat into our view. 
Their last advance, moreover, had brought the leader 
within range of my rifle. He was much the largest 
of the three, and I determined to wait no longer, but 
let him have it ; so, levelling my piece at the place 
which I supposed lay nearest to his heart, I pulled 
trigger. 

“ ‘ Missed him ! ’ thought I, as the three great 
animals wheeled in their tracks, and went away like 
lightning. What was strange to us, they did not 
gallop, as most deer do, but went off in a sort of 
shambling trot, like a ‘pacing’ horse, and quite as 
fast as a horse could gallop. 

“ The dogs — which, up to this time, Cudjo had 
been holding by their necks — dashed after with 
yelps and barking. They were all — both elk and 
dogs — soon lost to our eyes; but for some time we 
could hear the elk breaking through the thick cane 
ind bushes, with the dogs yelling in close pursuit. 

‘U thought there would be no chance of the maa- 
tiffs coming up with them, I was, therefore, not 
intending to follow ; when ai» once I heard the 


*36 


THE GREAT ELK. 


voices of the dogs change from yelping to that of a 
worrying sound, as though they were engaged in a 
fierce conflict with one another. 

‘ Perhaps I have wounded the animal, and they 
have overtaken it,’ said I. ‘ Come, Cudjo ! let us 
after and see. Boys, remain to take care of your 
mother.’ 

“ I laid hold of Hariy’s rifle, and, followed by 
Cudjo, ran across the glade in the track which both 
elk and dogs had taken. As we entered the bushes, 
I saw that their leaves were sprinkled with blood. 

“ ‘ No doubt,’ said I, ‘ he is wounded, and badly, 
too. We shall have him yet.’ 

“ ‘ Dat we shall, Massa ! ’ cried Cudjo ; and we ran 
on as fast as we could through the thick canebrake, 
in the track made by the animals. I ran ahead of 
my companion, as Cudjo was rather slow of foot. 
Every here and there I saw gouts of blood on the 
leaves and cane, and, guided by the hoarse voices 
of the mastiffs, I soon reached the spot where they 
were. Sure enough, the wounded elk was there, 
down upon his knees, and defending himself with 
nis antlers ; while one of the dogs lay sprawling on 
the ground, and howling with pain. The other still 
kept up the fight, endeavoring to seize the elk from 
betiind ; but the latter spun round, as though his 
knees were upon a pivot, and always presented hif 
korny spikes in ♦he direction of the attack. 


THE GREAT ELK. 


137 


was afiaid the elk might get a blow at one of 
our brave dogs, and put an end to him, so I fireo 
hastily, and, regardless of consequences, ran forward 
to finish him with the but of the rifle. I struck with 
all my might, aiming diI^3ctly for his head, but in my 
hurry I missed him ; and, carried forward with the 
force which I had thrown into the blow, I fell right 
into the midst of his branching antlers ! I dropped 
my rifle, and seized hold of the points, with the in- 
tention of extricating myself ; but before I could do 
30, the elk had risen to his feet, and, with a powerful 
jerk of his head, tossed me high into the air. I came 
down upon- a thick network of vines and branches ; 
and, my presence of mind still remaining, I clutched 
them as I fell, and held on. It was well that I did 
so, for directly under me the infuriated animal was 
bounding from point to point, evidently in search of 
me, and wondering where I had gone. Had I fallen 
back to the earth, instead of clinging to the branchrs, 
he would, no doubt, have crushed me to pieces with 
his fearful horns. 

‘ For some moments 1 lay quite helpless where I 
had been flung, watching what was passing below. 
The mastiff still continued his attack, but was evi- 
dently cowed by the fate of his companion, and only 
snapped at the elk when he could get round to his 
flanks. The other dog lay among the weeds, howl 
mg piteously. 


12 * 


M 


138 


THE GREAT ELK. 


“At this moment Cudjo appeared in sight, for 1 
iiad headed him some distance in my haste. I could 
see the whites of his great eyes turned up in wonder- 
ment when he perceived the rifle lying upon the 
ground without seeing me. I had barely time to utter 
a shout of warning, when the elk spied him ; and, 
lowering his head, rushed upon him with a loud and 
furious snort. 

“ I was filled with fear for my faithful follower anc 
friend. I saw that he carried a large Indian speai 
— which he had found at the camp where our coin- 
panions had been massacred, — but I had no hope of 
his being able to ward off the impetuous attack. I 
saw that he did not even point .the weapon to receive 
the enraged animal, but stood like a statue. ‘ He ,is 
paralyzed with terror,’ thought I ; and I expected the 
next moment to see him empaled upon the sharp 
antlers and gored to death. But I had very much 
mistaken my man Cudjo. When the horns were 
within two feet of his breast, he stepped nimbly behind 
a tree, and the elk passed him with a rush. So quick 
had been the action, that for a moment I thought he 
had gone under, but, to my agreeable surprise, the 
next moment I saw him start out from the tree, and 
making a lounge with the spear, bury it among the 
ribs of the animal. No matador in all Spain could 
Dave performed the feat more cleverhr. 

“ I shouted with delight as I saw the huge body 


THE GREAT ElK. 


139 


\ 

TDlling to ^the earth ; and dropping down from my 
perch, I ran towards the spot. On reaching it, 1 
found the elk panting in the throes of death, while 
Cudjo stood over his body safe and triumphant. 

“ ‘ Bravo ! ’ cried I, ‘ my brave Cudjo, you have 
ended him in earnest.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, Massa,’ replied Cudjo, coolly, though evi 
dently with some slight symptoms of triumph in his 
manner ; ‘ yes, Massa RofF, dis black niggur hab gin 
de gemman a settler under de rib number five. He 
butt de breatb out of poor Cassy no more — poor old 
Cassy ! ’ And Cudjo commenced caressing the dog 
Castor, which was the one that had suffered most from 
the horns of the elk. 

“ We were now joined by Harry, who, hearing the 
struggle, could remain no longer in the camp. For- 
tunately, we found his rifle quite safe ; and Cudjo 
drawing his knife, let the blood out of the animal in 
a scientific manner. From its great weight, — not 
less than a thousand pounds, — we saw that we could 
not take the whole carcass to camp without yoking 
either the horse or ox to it, so we resolved to skin 
aiii quarter it where it lay. After going back for 
the necessary implements, as well as to announce 
our success, we returned again, and soon finished 
the operation. Before the sun had set, nearly a 
thousand pounds of fresh elk meat were dangling 
from the trees around our little encampment We 


140 


THE GREAT ELK. 


had purposely delayed eating until our work shoutd 
oe done ; and while Cudjo and I were engaged in 
hanging up the huge quarters, Mary had been busy 
with the gridiron, and an elk rump sHak — quite 
equal to the best beef — added to the excellence of 
6U7 supper. 


ADVENTURE WITH THE CARCAJOU. 


lil 


CHAPTER XIV. 

ADVENTURE WITH THE CARCAJOU. 

“ We arose early next morning, and having eaten a 
hearty breakfast of elk steaks and coffee, began to 
consider what was the next thing to be done. We 
had now quite enough of meat to carry us to the end 
of the longest journey ; and it only remained to be 
cured, so that it would keep on the way. But how 
were we to cure it, when we had not a particle of 
salt ? Here was a difficulty which for a moment 
looked us in the face. Only for a moment; for I 
soon recollected that^there was a way of preserving 
meat without salt, which has always been much in 
use among Spanish people, and in countries where 
salt is very scarce and dear. I had heard, too, that 
this method was much practised among the trappers 
and hunters when laying up a stock of buffalo flesh, 
or of any other animals they might chance to kill. 
It is ca.led ‘ jerking,’ and the meat when thus p^'e- 
pared goes by the name of ‘jerked meat.’ By the 
Spaniards, it is called ‘ tasajo.’ • 

“ 1 remembered having read an account of the 


lli ADVENTURE WITH THE CARCAJOU. 

process; and, after instructing Cudjo in it, we imme- 
diately set about ‘jerking’ the elk. We first built a 
large fire, upon which we placed a great many sticks 
of green wood, fresh cut from the tree. This was 
done so that the fire might burn slowly, and throw 
out a great volume of smoke. We then stuck several 
stakes into the ground, around the fire, and stretched 
lines from o”ne to the other. This being done, we 
took down the quarters of the elk, and removed the 
meat from the bones, cutting it off in thin strips, each 
of them over a yard in length. These strips we 
hung over the lines already prepared, so that they 
might be exposed to the smoke and heat of the fire, 
although not so much as to cause them to be broiled. 
The whole process was now ended, excepting that it 
would be necessary for us to look occasionally to the 
fire, as well as to see that the dogs and wolves did 
not leap up and snap off the meat, that hung down 
from the lines like so many strings of sausages. 
In about three days the flesh of the elk would be 
‘jerked,’ and capable of being carried to any distance 
without the danger of spoiling. 

“ During these viiree days, we all remained very 
much in the neighborhood of our camp. We might 
have procured more game, had we gone out to hun 
for it } but we ^id not do this, for three reasons : 
first, because we had enough for our wants ; secondly 
we did not wish, under the circumstances, to waste 


adventure with the carcajou. 14 ‘i 

a single charge- of ammunition ; and, lastly, because 
we had seen the tracks of bears and panthers by the 
stream. We dia not wish to risk meeting with any 
of these customers in the dark and tangled woods; 
which we should have been likely enough to do, had 
we gone far out In pursuit of game We were deter- 
mined to leave them unmolested as long as they 
should preserve a similar line of conduct towards us ; 
and, ill order to prevent any of them from intruding 
into our camp while we were asleep, we kept a 
circle of fires burning around the wagon throughout 
the night. 

“ During these three days, however, we were not 
without fresh viands, and those, too, of the most 
luxurious and delicate kinds. I had succeeded in 
killing a wild turkey, which, along with several 
others, had entered the glade, and run close up to our 
camp before they saw us. He was a large ‘ gobbler,’ 
— over twenty pounds in weight, — and, I need not 
tell you, proved far more delicious eating than his 
tame cousins of the farm yard. 

“ At the end of the third day, the elk meat was as 
dry as a chip ; and, taking it from the lines, we 
packed it in small bundles, and placed it in our 
wagon. We now thought of waiting only until our 
animals should be fairly recruited ; and as both horse 
and ox were up to their eyes, from morning till 
night, in rich pasturage, and began to fill out abou 


144 


ADVENTURE WITH THE CARCAJOU, 


the flanks, we were congratulating ourselves that we 
should not have to wait long. 

“ Of how little value are human calculations 
Just at that moment, when we were so sanguine of 
being able soon to escape from our desert prison, an 
event occurred, which tendered that escape altogether 
impossible — for yeais, at least, and, it might be, 
forever. But I will detail the circumstance as it 
happened. 

“ It was on the afternoon of the fourth day after we 
had entered the valley. We had just finished dinner. 
and were sitting near the fire, watching the two 
children, Mary and Luisa, as they rolled in joyous 
innocence over the smooth greensward. My wife 
and I were conversing about the little Luisa — about 
the unfortunate end of her father and mother — both 
'of whom, we believed, had fallen victims in the savage 
massacre. We were talking of how we should bring 
her up, — whether in ignorance of the melancholy 
fate of her parents, and in the belief that she was 
one of our own children, — or whether, when she 
had grown to a sufficient age to understand it, we 
should reveal tp her all the story of her orphanage. 
Our thoughts now reverted, for the first time, to our 
own wretched prospects, for these, too, had been 
blighted by the loss of our Scotch friend. We were 
going to a strange land, — a land where we knew na 
one of whose language, even, we were ignorant, — 


ADVENTURE ^ fTH THE CARCAJOU. 


145 


a land, too, whose inhabitants were neither prosperous 
of themselves, nor disposed to countenance prosperity 
in others — much less cf the race to which we be- 
longed. We were going, too, without an object ; for 
that which had brought us so far was now removed 
by the death of our friend. We had no property, 
no money — not enough even to get us shelter for a 
single night : what would become of us .? They were 
bitter reflections which we drew from thinking on 
the future ; but we did not permit them to torture 
us long. 

“ ‘ Fear not, Robert,’ said my noble wife, placing 
her little hand in mine, and looking cheerfully in 
my face, '’He who has guarded us through the past 
is not likely to fail us in the future.’ 

“ ‘ Dear Mary,’ 1 replied, roused to new life and 
energy by her consoling words, ‘ you are right — you 
are right : in Him only let us trust.’ 

“ At that moment a strange noise sounded in our 
ears, coming, from the direction of the forest. It 
seemed distant at first, but every moment diew 
nearer and nearer. It was like the voice of some 
animal ‘ routing ’ from extreme terror or pain. I 
looked around for the ox. The horse was in the 
glade, but his companion was not to be seen. Again 
the voice came from the woods, louder and more fear- 
ful than ever. It was plainly the bellowing of an ox 
but what could it mean ? Once more it, rose upon 
13 


N 


i46 ADVENTURE WITH THE CARCAJOU. 

the air, nearer and more distinct, and sounded aa 
though the animal was running as it cried. 

“I sprang to my rifle, — Frank and Harry also 
seized theirs, — Cudjo armed himself with the Indian 
spear ; and the dogs, that had started to their feet, 
stood waiting a signal to rush forth. 

Once more broke out that terrible cry ; and 
we could now hear the sweeping of leaves, and the 
crackling of branches, as if some huge animal was 
tearing its way through the bushes. The birds flew 
up from the thicket, terrified and screaming , the 
horse neighed wildly ; the dogs sent forth their im- 
patient yelps, and our children shrieked in affright. 
A-gain rose the deep and sonorous roar, filling the 
valley with its agonizing tones. The cane rattled as 
it yielded to the crushing hoof We saw the leaves 
of the thick underwood shaking at a distance, — then 
nearer, — then up to the edge of the glade, — and the. 
next moment a bright-red object appeared through 
the leaves, and dashed out into the opening. . We 
saw at a glance it was the ox ; but what could it 
mean.? Was he pursued by some monster — some 
beast oi prey.'' No; not pursued, but already over- 
taken. Laok ! see what the ox carries on his shoul- 
ders ! O heavens ! what a sight ! 

“ We were all for a while as if thunderstruck 
Between the shoulders of the ox, and clutching him 
around the neck, was a large animal. It “at first sighi 


ADVENTURE V/ITII 1 /IE CARCAJOU 


14 


appeared to be a mass of brown, shaggy hair, and 
part of the ox himself — so closely was it fastened 
upon him. As they drew nearer, however, we could 
ilistinguish the spreading claws, and short, muscular 
limbs of a fearful creature. Its head was down near 
the throat of the ox, which we could see was torn, 
And dappled with crimson spots. The mouth of the 
strarjge animal was resting upon his jugular vein. 
It was tearing his flesh, and drinking his blood aa 
he ran ! 

“ The ox, as he came out of the thicket, galloped 
but slowly, and routed with less energy than before. 
We could perceive that he tottered as he lan, still 
making fol* the camp. In a short time he was in 
our midst, when, uttering a long moan, he fell to the 
earth with the death rattle in his throat. 

“ The strange animal, roused by the shock, sud 
denly let go its hold, and raised itself erect over the 
carcass. Now, for the first time, I saw what it was. 
It was the fearful carcajou ! Now, too, for the first 
time, it seemed to be aware of our presence, and 
suddenly placed itself in an attitude to spring. The 
nexc moment it had launched its body towards Mary 
and the children I 

“ We all three fired as it sprang forward ; but our 
feelings had unnerved us, and the bullets whistled 
idly away. I drew my knife and rushed after ; but 
Cudgo was before me, and I saw the blade of hif 


48 


ADVENTURE WITH TEE CARCAJOU. 


spear glancing towards it like a flash of lighc, an^ 
burying itself in the long hair. With a hoarse 
growl the monster turned, and, to my joy, I saw 
that it was empaled upon the spear, which had passed 
hrough the skin of its neck. Instead of yielding, 
however, it rushed up the shaft, until Cudjo was com- 
pelled tc drop the weapon, to save himself from 
being torn by its long, fierce claws. Before it could 
clear itself from the spear, I had drawn my large 
pistol, and fired directly into its breast. The shot 
proved mortal, and the shaggy monster rolled over, 
and struggled for some minutes in the agonies of 
death. We were saved ; but our poor ox, that was 
to have drawn us out of the desert, lay upon he 
grass, a lifeless and almost bloodless carcass i * 


A FRUITLESS SEARCH FOR A TRAIL. 


149 


CHAFl’ER XV. 

A FRUITLESS SEARCH FOR A TRAIL. 

• Our hopes of being able to get away from the 
oasis valley were thus crushed in a moment. The 
horse could not of himself draw the wagon ; and how 
could we travel without it.? Even could we have 
crossed the desert on foot, he would hardly suffice to 
carry our food and water. But for us to pass one 
of those terrible stretches of wilderness — by the 
Spaniards called ‘ jornadas ’ — on foot, was out of the 
:iuestion. Even the strongest and hardiest of the 
trappers often perish in such attempts ; and how 
should we succeed .? — one of us being a delicate 
female, an"^ waving two children that must be car- 
ried in our arms. The thing was plainly impossible ; 
and as I reflected upon it, the thoughts of its impossi- 
bility filled me with despair. 

“ But were we never to escape from that lonely 
spot .? What prospect was before us of ever being 
able to leave it .? No human beings might ccme to 
our relief. Perhaps no human foot except our own 
had ever made its track in that remote valley. This 


150 


A FRUITLESS SEARCH FOR A TRaIL. 


was not at all improbable ; and, indeed, a party of 
hunters or Indians, on their journey across the 
desert, might visit the mountain without discovering 
the valley so strangely was it hollowed out of the 
plain. 

* I had but little hope that any caravan or party 
of traders would pass that way The desert that 
8urro.iiiaed us was a sufficient barrier against that ; 
oesides, I knew that the mountain was far to the 
southward of the trails usually followed by the prairie 
traders. There was but one hope that I could cling 
to with any degree of confidence — that was, that the 
desert might not stretch so far to the south or west 
as it appeared to do ; and by breaking up the wagon, 
and making a light cart out of it, we might still be 
able to cross it. I was determined, therefore, first to 
go alone, and explore the route in both these direc- 
tions. If it should appear practicable, I could return, 
and put this design into execution. 

“ Next morning, having loaded my horse with pro- 
visions, and as much water as he could well carry, I 
took an affectionate leave of my wife and little cnes , 
and, commending them to the protection cf God, I 
mounted, and rode off towards the west. I headed in 
this direction for a day and a half, and still the 
waste stretched to the horizon before me. I had 
made but a short journey, for the path led through 
ridges and hillocks of moving sand, and my horse 


A FRUIT liESS SEARCH FOR A TRAIL. 151 

Ban A to the knees at every step. In the afternoon 
of the second day, I turned back from the attempt, 
fearful that I should not be able to regain tl^ valley 
But I succeeded at length — both myself and horsa 
Elmost dead with thirst on arriving there. 

“ I found my little party all well as ! had left 
them ; but I had brought them no glad tidings, 
and I sat down in their midst with a feeling of 
despair. 

“ My next reconnoissance was to be to the south , 
and I only waited until my jaded horse might be 
sufficiently rested for the journey. 

“ Another day passed, and I was sitting upon a log 
near the fire, reflecting upon the dark future that 
lay before us. I was filled with despondency, and 
took no note of what was passing around. When 
I had sat in this way for some time, I felt a light 
hand touching me upon the shoulder, and, looking 
up, I saw that Mary had seated herself upon the log 
beside me, while a smile of cheerfulness and com- 
posure was playing upon her fair features. 

“ I saw that she had something in her mind that 
she was about to communicate to me. 

“ ‘ What is it, Mary ? ’ I asked. 

‘ Is not this a lovely spot ? ’ said she, waving her 
hand so as to indicate the whole scene by which wo 
were surrounded. My eyes, along with hers, roamed 
foi a moment ov3J the fair picture and T could noi 


152 


FRUITLESS SEARCH FOR A TRAIL 


do Otherwise than answer in the affirmative. It was, 
indeed, a lovely spot. The open glade, with the 
golden sun streaming dowm upon its green herbage 
and vivid flowers ; the varied tints of the foresi 
frondage, now dressed in the brilliant livery of au- 
tumn ; the cliffs beyond, contrasting with it in color 
from their lining of dark-green cedars and pines ; 
and, higher still, the snow-white summit, as it towered 
against the blue sky, sparkling under the sun, and 
lending a delicious coolness to the air, — all these 
objects formed a panorama that was, indeed, lovely 
to look upon. And there were sweet sounds falling 
upon the ear — the murmur of distant waters, the 
light rustling of leaves, stirred by a soft breeze that 
blew past laden with the aromatic odors of buds and 
flowers ; the music of birds that sang to each other 
in the groves, or uttered their joyous calls as they 
flapped their bright wings over the open glade. 

“ ‘ Yes, Mary,’ I replied ; ‘ it is, indeed, a lovely 
spot.’ 

“ ‘ Then, Robert,’ said she, with a look of strange 
meaning, ‘ why should we be so anxious to leave 
it ? ’ 

“‘Why?’ I repeated mechanically after her, 
tvondering at the question. 

“‘Yes, why?’ continued my wife. ‘We are in 
search of a home ; why not make this our home ? 
Where can we find a better ? How know we that 


A FRUITLESS SEARCH FOR A TR^IL. * 158 

in that land whither we were going, we may find one 
no good — if indeed, they give us a home at all ? ’ 

“ ‘ But, dear Mary,’ said I, ‘ how could you live 
away from the world — you who have been brought 
up in the midst of society and its refinements ? ’ 

“ ‘ '^he world ! ’ replied she ; ‘ what care we foi 
the world ? ^ Have we not our children with us? 
They will be our world, and we can be society 
enough for each other. Moreover,’ continued she, 
‘ remember how little we have in that world ; re- 
member how it has used us so far. Have we been 
happy in it? No; I have enjoyed more happiness 
here than I ever did in the midst of that society of 
which you speak. Think, Robert ! reflect before 
we rashly leave this lovely spot — this sweet home — 
into which I can almost believe the hand of God has 
guided us.’ 

“ ‘ But, Mary,- you have not thought of the diffi- 
culties, the hardships, to which such a life may expose 
you.’ 

“ ‘ I have,’ she replied. ‘ I have thought of all 
these while you were absent. I can see no difficulty 
in oui procuring a subsistence here. The Creatoi 
has bountifully stocked this singular oasis. We may 
easily obtain all the necessaries of life — for its 
luxuries I care but little. We can live without 
Jiem.* 

“ Her words produced a strange effect upon 


154 A FRUITLESS SEARCH FOR A TRAIL. 

Up to that moment, rhe idea of remaining in the 
oasis had ' never entered my mind. T had onlv 
occupied myself with speculating on the means by 
which we could escape from it. Now, however, a 
sudden change came over my thoughts ; and I began 
to think seriously of following the counsel of my 
self-sacrificing companion. The harsh treatment -we 
had received at the hands of civilized man ; buf- 
feted about by ill fortune ; continually deceived, and 
at every step becoming poorer and more dependerit, 
— all had their effect in blunting that desire I should 
otherwise have felt to get back to the world. I was 
not averse then to the idea, but rather ready to fall 
at once into the plan. 

“ I remained silent for a length of time, casting 
over in my mind the possibility of our carrying out 
such a scheme — the chances of our being able to 
procure subsistence. It was evident there was plenty 
of game in the valley. We had occasionally seen 
deer of different species, and we had also discovered 
the tracks of other animals. There were pheasants 
and turkeys, too, in abundance. We had our rifles, 
and by good fortune a la'rge stock of ammunition — 
for, besides my own, Harry and Fiank had powder 
horns, containing nearly a pound each. But this, in 
time, would be expended ; what then O, what 
then ? Before that, I should find out some othei 
mode of capturing our game. Besides, the valley 


A FRUITLESS SEARCH FOR A TRAIL. 


155 


might contain many other things intended to sustain 
life — roots and fruits. We had already found some 
indications of this ; and Mary, who was an accom- 
plished botanist, could tell the uses of them all. We 
should find both food and water. What more could 
we ask from the hand of nature ? 

“As I ran these thoughts through my mind, the 
project became every moment more feasible. In 
fact, I grew quite as enthusiastic about it as my wife. 

“ Cudjo, Frank, and Harry were brought into our 
CQuncil ; and they, too, received the idea with delight. 
The faithful Cudjo was contented, as he alleged, with 
any lot, so long as he might share it with us. As 
for the boys, they were in raptures with the thought 
of such a free, wild life. 

“ We did not fully resolve upon any thing for that 
day. We were determined not to act rashly, but to 
reflect seriously upon it, and to renew our delibera- 
tions on the following morning. 

“During that night, however, a- circumstance oc- 
curred, which at once fixed my resolution to remain 
in the valley — at least, until some unforeseen chance 
might enable us to leave it with a better prospect cf 
lafety.” 


156 


THE MYSTERIOUS FLOfT> 


CHAPTER XVI 

THE MYSTERIOUS FIO( D 

** W ELL, my friends, I shall now detail to } on 
'^ihe strange incident which at once decided me to 
adopt the suggestion of my tvife, and make our 
home in the valley. Perhaps we did not, at the 
time, contemplate staying here for the remainder of 
our lives, but only for a few years. However, we 
resolved to remain for the present, and give our 
lonely life a fair trial, leaving the future an open 
question. 

“ The reason why I had hesitated at all upon the 
subject was this : I could not think of settling 
down with no prospect of improving our condition ; 
for, however much we might exercise our industry, 
its products could not enrich us beyond the satis* 
fying of our own wants. ‘ We should have no 
market,’ thought I, ‘ for any superfluous produce, even 
could we cultivate the whole valley.’ We could, 
therefore, become no richer, and would never be 
m any fitter state to return tc civilized society ; 
IDI, in spite of all, a thought of this still remained 
in ▼ - T'Tkd 


THE MYSTERIOUS FLOOD. IST 

“ Maiy, who was of a far more contented dis- 
position than I, still persisted in arguing that, as ouf 
happiness did not d(',pend upon possessing riches, 
we would never 'desire to leave that lovely spot, and 
that, consequently, we should stand in no need of 
wealth. 

“ Perhaps hers was the true philosophy — at all 
events, it was the natural one. . But the artificial 
wants of society implant within us the desire of 
accumulating individual property ; and I could not 
rid myself of this provident feeling. ‘ If we could 
only find some object,’ said I, ‘ upon which we might 
be exercising our industry, so that our time should 
not he wasted^ and by which we might prepare our- 
selves for returning to society, then for a time 
might we live most happily here.’ 

“ ‘ Who knows } ’ said Mary, in reply to this ; 
* there may be objects in this valley that may oc- 
cupy us, and enable us to lay up the very store you 
speak of, as well as if we were to continue on to 
New Mexico. What opportunities should we have 
there better than here } We have nothing now to 
begin life with any where. Here we have food and 
land, which I think we may fairly call our own ; 
there we should have neither. Here we have a 
home , and how know you, Robert, that we may not 
yet make a fortune in the desert } ’ 

“ We both laughed at the idea ; which, of course 
14 


158 


THE MYSTERIOUS FLOOD. 


Mary hao meant only as a jest, in order to reiidei . 
our prospects more cheering. 

“ It was now near midnight, for we had sat up to . 
that late hour deliberating on what we should do. 
As I have said, we agreed to leave the matter 
undecided until the morrow. The moon was just 
appearing over the eastern cliff ; and we were about 
rising to retire to our resting-places, when our eyes 
fell U})on an object that caused us all at the same 
time to cry out with astonishment. 

“ I have said, that, when we first entered this 
valley, there was no lake here. Where you now 
see, one was a greensward, with here and there a 
coppice of trees, forming part of the little prairie 
in which we were encamped. The stream ran 
across it, as it still does through the lake ; but at 
this point there were scarcely any banks, as the 
water flowed over a wide and shallow channel. On 
previous nights, when the mocn was shining into the 
valley, as we sat around our camp fire, we had 
noticed the stream winding like a silver thread 
nrough the dark-green herbage. Now, to our ex- 
treme wonder, instead of the narrow line, a broad 
sheet of water glistened before us. It seemed to 
cover a space of several hundred jards in extent, 
reaching far up the glade towards oui camp. Could 
it be water, or was it only the mirage — the fata, 
morgana ? No ; it was not the latter. We had 


THK MYSTERIOUS FLOOD. 


159 


witnessed this before, on our passage across the 
great plains. We had witnessed it on several oc- 
casions, and it was nothing like what we now 
saw. There is a filmy, whitish appearance about 
the illusions of the rairage^ by which the experienced 
traveller can always distinguish it from the real 
ihit there was nothing of that in the present in- 
stance. It was water that spread before us ; foi 
the moon, that had now risen above the cliflT, was 
plainly reflected upon its calm and glassy surface. 
Yes; it could be nothing but a sheet of water. 

“ But we were determined not to trust to oui 
eyes alone. We all ran towards it — Cudjo, the 
boys, and myself ; and in a few seconds we stood 
upon its edge — upon the edge of what appeared 
to be a large lake, formed as if by some magical 
influence. 

“ We had, at first, regarded the phenomenon only 
with feelings of wonder ; but our wonder was now 
changed to consternation, when wg perceived that the 
water was still rising. It ran in about our feet while 
we stood, rippling <?lowly against the gentle ascent, 
like 1 le influx of a tide. 

What (ould it mean? we asked of each other 
w: h boks that betrayed our fears. Was it a flood — 
an inundation — a sudden swelling of the stream? 
This it plainly was ; but what could have caused it ? 
There had been no rain for several days before and 


IbO 


THE MYSTERIOUS FLOOD. 


no great heat to have caused any unusual melting of 
the snow upon the mountain. What, then, could be 
the origin of this sudden and singular freshet What 
could it mean? 

“We stood for some time silent, with hearts beat- 
ing audibly — each looking at the others for an 
answer to this question. The solution seemed to 
strike is all at the same time, and a fearful one it 
was. Some terrible convulsion — the falling of the 
precipice, perhaps — had dammed the- canc” helow ; 
no doubt, had blocked up the great fissure by which 
the stream found its way from the valley. If such 
were the case, then, the valley would soon fill with 
water, not only to cover the ground occupied by our 
camp, hut the tops of the highest trees. 

“You will easily conceive the terror with which 
this thought was calculated to inspire us. We could 
think of no other cause for the strange inundation, 
nor, indeed, did we stay longer to consider of any 
but ran back to the camp, determined to escape from 
the valley as soon as we could. Cudjo caught the 
horse ; Mary awoke the children, and brought them 
out of the wagon ; while the boys and I busied our- 
selves in collecting a few necessary things, that we 
might l>3 enabled to carry along with us. 

“ Up to this time we had not thought of the diffi- 
culty — much less the impossibility — of escaping 
from the valley. To our horror, that now became 


THE MYSTERIOUS FLOOD. 


161 


nlflar as the sun at noonday; for we perceived thal 
the- road by which we had entered the glade, and 
which lay along the stream, was completely covered, 
and the rising water reached fat* beyond it. There 
was no other path by which we could get out. To 
attempt cutting one through the thick, tangled woods, 
would be the work of days; moreover, we remem- 
bered that we had crossed the stream on the way to 
our camp, and that, of course, would now be swollen 
below, so that to recross it would be impossible. We 
had no doubt but that the valley, at its lower end, 
was, by this time, filled with water, and our retreat in 
that direction completely cut off. We knew of no 
other path ! 

“ I cannot describe the state of mind into which 
we were thrown when these facts became evident to 
one and all of us. We were about to start out from 
the camp, each of us carrying our burden ; but it 
was plainly of no use making the attempt, and we 
let fall the various utensils with a feeling of despair. 
The water was still rising — the lake was growing 
larger I 

“ The wolves howled, driven from their lair by the 
encroaching element; birds, roused from their sleep, 
screamed and fluttered among the trees; our dogs 
narked at the strange sight ; and, in the clear moon- 
light, we could see deer, and other wild animals, 
rushing, as if terrified, through the optm glade. 0 
14 * 


0 


162 


THE MYSTERIOUS FLOOH 


God ! were we to be ingulfed, and perish in tlwa 
mysterious flood ? 

“ What was to be done ? Should we climb into 
the trees ? That would not save us. If the great 
channel was blocked up below, I knew that that 
would not save us ; for its jaws were higher than the 
tops of the highest trees, and the rising flood would 
soon lick us from the branches. It might prolong our 
lives, and with them our despair; but what — ‘Ha!’ 
The thought. Heaven-directed, at this moment entered 
my mind. 

“ ‘ A raft ! a raft ! We shall yet he saved ! ’ 

“ My companions at once understood my meaning. 
Cudjo seized the axe, while Mary hastened to the 
wagon to collect such ropes and cords as were in it. 
I knew there would not be enough of these for our 
purpose ; and, spreading out the great elk skin, I pro- 
ceeded to cut h into strips. 

“ There were several logs lying close to our camp. 
They were the trunks of tall, straight trees, that 
from time to time had fallen, and were now quite 
dead and dry. They were the trunks of the beautiful 
Uriodendron,j)r tulip tree, out of which the Indians 
always make their canoes, when they can get them 
of sufficient size. This, because their wood is ex- 
tremely soft and light — weighing only twenty-six 
pounds to the cubic foot. While busy myself, I 
directed Cudjo to cut a number of these logs into 


THE MYSTERIOUS FLOOD. 


163 


equal lengths. Cudjo knew how to handle an axe 
with any other man, and the logs* were soon of the 
proper dimensions. We now rolled them together, 
and, by the aid of our ropes and cross pieces, lashed 
them firmly to one another, and our raft was com* 
pleted. Upon this we placed our great chest, con- 
taining the jerked meat, with our blankets, and such 
utensils as were necessary to be saved. We laid in 
no stock of water for the expected voyage ; we had 
no fear about our having enough of that. 

“ We had been occupied nearly two hours in con- 
structing the raft ; but during all this time we had 
been so busy, that we had hardly looked in the direc- 
tion of the flood, only to see that it still continued 
to rise. As soon as our arrangements were com- 
pleted, I ran down to the water’s edge. After 
watching it for a few minutes, to my great joy I per- 
ceived that the flood was at a stand / I shouted the 
glad news to my companions, who, on hearing 
hastened to join me, and assure themselves by actual 
observation. For half an hour, we all stood upon 
the shore of the new-formed lake, until we became 
convinced that its waters were rising no higher. 
We saw, too, that they did not subside, but remained 
stationary. ‘ It has reached the top of whatever haa 
dammed it,’ thought we, ‘ and is now flowing over.’ 

“‘What a pity, Massa Rofl,’ said Cudjo', as we 


THE MYSIERIOUS FLOOD. 


i64 

wended our way back to the camp — what a pit]! 
we make dat fine raff for nuffin ! ’ 

“ Ah, Cudjo,’ rejoined my wife, ‘ we should neve. 
regret having performed that which is a work of 
precaution; ^nd we must remember that the raft — 
although it may not be required as we intended it — 
has already far more than repaid us for the labo» 
bestowed upon it. Remember the misery we were 
suffering but a short time since, and from which the 
idea of this raft at once relieved us. Measures 
of precaution, however irksome, should always be 
adopted. It is only the slothful and vacillating who 
either neglect or regret them.’ 

“ ‘ Dat’s true, Missa — dat’s berry true,’ said Cudjo, 
in a serious tone, for he well knew how to appreciate 
the teachings of his noble mistress. 

“ It was now very -late, or ratber very early, and 
Mary, with the children, returned to their usual 
resting-place in the wagon. Cudjo and I, fearing 
to trust to the capricious water, determined — lest it 
might take another turn, and ‘catch us napping’ — 
to keep watch on it till the morning.” 


THE BEAVERS ANli WOLVERENE. 


165 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE BEAVERS AND WOLVERENE. 

When daylight came, the mysterious flood was 
still standing at its full height. I call it mysterious, 
for as yet we knew nothing of what had so suddenly 
created it. We could think of no other cause than 
the falling in of the precipice below. I had deter- 
mined, as soon as the day fairly broke, to make my 
way through the woods, and remove all doubt — 
for we still felt some uneeisiness in regard to this 
strange phenomenon. 

“ Leaving Cudjo with his long spear, and the boys 
with their rifles, to guard the camp, I set forth alone. 
I took with me my gun, as well as a small hatchet 
which we had, to clear away a track through the 
brushwood. 

“ I struck at once into the woods, and guiding 
myself by an occasional glimpse of the sun, that had 
now risen, I kept on in a south-easterly course. It 
was my intention to get out on the edge of the flood 
some distance below, when I could then skirt around 
it. After cutting my way through the brambles to 


166 


THE BLAVERS AND WODVERENfc. 


Jie distance of nearly a mile, I came suddenly oui 
upon the bank of the rivulet ; and guess my surprise, 
on seeing that the stream was not only not swollen, 
but there was even less water than usual running in 
its channel! I noticed, however, that the water was 
muddy, and that green leaves and fresh-broken twigs 
were floating down upon its current. 

“ Of course, I now turned my face up stream 
Knowing that the dam must be in that direction ; but 
for my life, I could not imagine how any acciden 
of nature could have stopped up the channel above 
The falling of trees could not possibly have pro 
duced such an effect; and there were no high bluffs 
abutting on the rivulet that could have fallen into 
its bed. I began to believe that human hands had 
been at work ; and I looked for the prints of human 
feet. I saw none, but the tracks of animals were 
numerous. Thousands of them, at least, — great, 
broad feet, webbed like those of a duck, but with 
sharp claws, — were impressed in the sand and mud, 
all along the banks of the stream. 

“ I moved forward very cautiously ; for, although I 
could not discover their tracks, I was still fearful 
that Indians, and of course enemies, were near. At 
leng h I reached a bend in the stream, above which 
, remembered that the channel was narrower, and 
ran between banks of a considerable height. I re 
memberod this well, for on first entering the val ey 


fBE BEAVERS AND WOLVERENE. 16T 

we had been obliged at this place to draw the wagon 
out of the bed of the rivulet, and cu. a way for it 
through the adjacent woods. No doubt, then, I would 
there find the obstacle that had so mysteriously in- 
tercepted the current. 

“ On reaching this bend, I climbed out upon the 
bank ; and, stealing silently through the underwood, 
I peeped through the leaves. A most singular scene 
was before me. 

“ The stream, as I had rightly conjectured, was 
dammed up at the point where the channel was nar- 
rowest, but not by any accident. The work bore 
the marks of design, as much as if it had been con- 
structed by human hands. A tall tree had been 
felled across the stream — so that the place where it 
had been cut through was not detached from the 
stump, but still held fast by its crushed fibres. On 
the other side, its top branches were buried under 
rocks and mud, so as to render them secure. Against 
this tree upright stakes rested ; and these again were 
wattled together, and firmly bedded in rocks that 
had been collected around their lower ends. Behind 
these uprights were piled other stakes and branches, 
laid crosswise, and bound together with layers of 
rocks and mud — so that the whole structure formed 
a wall of full six feet in thickness, bioad along the 
top, and sloping off towards the water. On the lower 
•ide it stood nearly perpendicular, as the upright^ 


^ ' / 

168 ' ' THE BEAVERS AND WOLVERENE. ' 

were thus set. The top of this was plastered with 
mud, and at both sides was left a narrow sluice, or 
"wash, through which the water ran smoothly off, 
without wearing away the breastwork. 

“ I have said that the work bore the marks of 
design, as much as if it had been constructed by 
human hands. But it was not. The builders of that 
breastwork were before my eyes, and apparently just 
resting from their labors. 

“ There were about a hundred of them in all, 
squatting over the ground and along the parapet of 
the new-made dam. They were of a dark brown, — 
or, rather, a chestnut color, — and reminded me of so 
many gigantic rats, except that their tails were not 
elongated and tapering like these. Their backs 
however, were arched, and their bodies of a thick, 
rounded shape, similar to animals of the rat kind. 
Moreover, 1 could perceive that they were armed 
with^the cutting teeth which distinguish the family 
of the rodentia^ or ‘ gnawers.’ These teeth I coma 
see distinctly, as some of the animals were using 
them at the time, and they even protruded when 
their mouths were shut. I noticed that there was q 
pair of them in each jaw, broad, strong, and shaped 
like chisels. The ears of the animals were short 
and almost buried in the hair, which, although long, 
was not shaggy, but presented a smooth appearance 
over all parts of their bodies. There was a tuft o, 


THE BEAVERS 4ND WOLVERENE. 


169 


•tiff bristles growing out on each side of the nose, 
like the whiskers of a cat ; and their eyes were small, 
and set high up, like those of the otter. Their fore 
limbi were shorter than the hind ones, and both had 
feet with five claws ; but the hind feet were broad and 
large, and completely webbed between the toes. It 
was they, then, that had made the tracks I had ob- 
served in coming up the stream. But the most strik- 
ing feature of these animals was the tail. This 
appendage was ehtirely without hair, of a dark color, 
and looking as though it was covered with the well- 
known substance — shagreen. It was about a foot in 
length, several inches broad and thick, and not at all 
unlike a cricket bat — except that it appeared heavier 
and more oval-shaped at the end. The animals were 
somewhat larger than otters ; not so long, but much 
thicker and heavier in the body. 

“ I had never seen such creatures before, but I 
knew at once what they were ; for although I had 
neglected my other studies, natural history had 
always been my favorite, and I had made some 
progress in that. I knew, then, that the strange 
beings before me were beavers — the castor fiber of 
the naturalists. 

“ The whole mystery was now explained. A 
colony of beavers had migrated into the valley, and 
constricted their dam ; and this it was which had 
caused the sudden inundation. 

15 


p 


170 


THE BEAVERS AND WOLVERENE. 


“ I remained for some time, after I had mi-de th^ 
Discovery, watching these creatures and their inter 
esting movements. The breastwork appeared to be 
quite finished ; but this did not follow from the fact 
that the animals were no Icuger at work upon it, as it 
us only by night they perform such labor. In fact, 
they are rircly seen, except by night, in countries 
where they have been disturbed or hunted ; but here 
they were evidently unaccustomed to man. They 
appeared to be resting after their night’s work. It is 
not likely that they had built the whole breastwork 
during that one night, but had only put on the 
finishing part which had produced the sudden flood. 
As the glade above where they had dammed the 
rivulet was nearly level, a very small stoppage in the 
stream sufficed to inundate a large extent of ground, 
as it had actually done. 

“ Some of the beavers were sitting upon the newly- 
raised work, gnawing the leaves and twigs that stuck 
out from the mud ; others were washing themselves 
disporting playfully through the water ; while others 
squatted upon logs that lay along the edge of the 
dam, every now and again flapping their heavy tails 
upon the water, lik 3 so many laundresses beating ou* 
their wet linen. 

“ It was a curious and comical sight ; and, after 
laving enjoyed it for some time, I was about stepping 
erward to witness what effect my presence would 


THE BEAVERS AND W(yLVEREI?E. ITS 

produce, when, all at once, 1 perceived that some 
other object had creaKid a sudden commotion among 
the animals. One of them, who had been stationed 
upon a log at some distance up the lake, and appar- 
ently acting as a sentry, now ran out upon the log. 
and struck the water three quick, heavy flaps with his 
tail. This was evidently a signal ; for the moment 
he had given it, the animal, as if pursued, pitched 
himself head foremost into the lake, and disappeared. 
The rest started as soon as they heard it ; and looking 
around for a moment, as if in affright, they all ran 
to the bank, and plunged simultaneously under the 
water, each of them striking a blow with his tail as 
he we«t under. 

“ I now looked for the cause of this sudden move- 
ment.. All at once I perceived, coming around the 
lake where the sentiy beaver had disappeared, a 
strange-looking animal. It moved slowly and silently, 
skulking among the trees, and keeping close in to 
the water’s edge. I saw that it was making for the 
new-built dam, and I remained where I was to watch 
it. At length it reached the breastwork, and crawled 
cautiously along it, keeping behind the parapet, sa 
as not to to be seen from the lake above. 

“ I had now a good view of it, and a vicious-look 
\ng creature it was. It was not much larger than 
one of the beavers themselves, and in some points 
not unlike them, but in other respects the difference 


m 


THE BEAVERS AND WOLVERENE. - 


was marked. It was of a very different cdor— > 
being nearly black upon the back and belly, while a 
light-brown stripe traversed both its sides, meeting 
over its rump. Its nose and feet were completely 
black, while its breast and throat were w'hite, and a 
whitish ring was around each of the eyes. It had 
small ears, with stiff bristles at the nose, and a shor* 
and bushy tail. The hair over its whole body was 
long and shaggy. Its legs were thick and muscular 
and so short, that, when it moved, its belly seemed 
to trail along the ground. It appeared rather to 
crawl than to walk. But this arose from the fact 
of its being an animal of the plantigrade family, and 
using its feet to walk upon, which, in many other 
animals, such as the horse, appear to form part of 
<he legs. With the animal in question, the feet were 
.ong, black, and armed with white, curving claws. 
Its whole appearance was that of a carnivorous crea- 
ture — in other words, it was a beast of prey. It was 
the wolverene^ the dreaded enemy of the beaver. 

“ On arriving out near the middle of the breast- 
work, it stopped, and, planting its fore feet up against 
the parapet, raised its head slowly, and looked over 
into the lake. 

“Although the beaver is. an amphibious animal 
and spends full half of his time in the water, he cannot 
remain long, without coming to the surface to take 
breath ; and already the heads of several were 


THE beavers and WOLVERENE. 1*^ 

ai different points in the lake. Others, again, had 
boldly climbed out on the little islets which here and 
there appeared above water, and where they knew 
that the wolverene, who is not a good swimmer, could 
not reach them. None of them, however, showed 
any signs of returning to the breastwork. 

“ The wolverene seemed also to have arrived at 
this conclusion ; for now — apparently careless of 
being seen from the lake — he looked around him on 
all sides and above, as if he either intended giving 
up the pursuit of his prey, or adopting some more 
effective measure to secure it. At length ie ap- 
peared to have formed some resolution, and leaping 
boldly up on the parapet, so as to be seen by the 
beavers, he walked back again along the water’s edge 
whence he had come. On getting a good distance 
from the breastwork, he , stopped for a moment, and 
then, turning away from the lake, ran off into the 
woods. 

“ 1 was curious to see whether the beavers would 
now return to the breastwork, and I resolved to 
remain a while longer without showing myself. I 
waited about five minutes, or more, at the end of 
which time I saw’ several of them, who had gone to 
the most distant islets, plunge into the water, and 
eome swimming towards me. As I was watching 
them, all at once I heard a rustling among the fallen 
'•^ves near the dam, and on looking, I perceived the 
lb* 


4 


THE BEAVERS AND WOLVERENE. 


wol erene making all the haste he could towards th< 
bre stwork. On reaching it, however, ‘nstead of 
running out behind the parapet as before, I saw him 
plant his long claws against a tree, and commence 
climbing upward, keeping on that side farthest from 
the lake. The branches of this tree stretched hori- 
eontally out, and directly over the breast woik. In a 
short time, the wolverene had reached the fork of one 
of these ; and, crawling out upon it, he laid himself 
flat along the branch and looked downward. 

“ He had scarcely settled himself on his perch, 
when half a dozen beavers — thinking, from whal 
they had seen, that he must have gone clear off — 
climbed out upon the breastwork, flapping their great 
tails as they came. They were soon under the very 
branch, and I saw the wolverene with his legs erected 
and ears set for the spring. This was my time ; and, 
glancing up the barrel of my rifle, I aimed directly 
for his heart. At the crack, the astonished beavers 
leaped back into the water, while the wolverene 
dropped from his perch — a little sooner, perhaps, 
than he had intended — and rolled over the ground, 
evidently wounded. I ran up and struck at him with 
the but end of my gun, intending to finish him ; but, 
to my astonishment, the fierce brute seized the stock 
in his teeth, and almost tore it to pieces ! For some 
lime I hammered him with huge stones — he, all the 
while, endeavoring to lay hold of me w'tb his long, 


THE BEAVERS AND WOLVERENE. 

curved claws ; and it was not until I got a down blow 
at his head with my axe that the fight was ended. A 
fearful-looking monster he was, as he lay stretched 
before me, and not unlike the carcajou which had 
killed our ox at the camp, only smaller. I did not 
attempt to take his carcass with me, as it was a use- 
less burden. Moreover, from the fetid smell which 
he emitted, I was glad to part company as soon as 1 
had killed him ; and, leaving him where he lay, I took 
the shortest road back to the camp.” 


HOW TO BUILu A LOG rABTM 




CHAPTER XVIII. 

HOW TO BUTLD A LOG CABIN. 

“ I NEEL not describe the joy of my wife and the resi 
when I returned and related to them what I had seen, 
as well as my adventure with the wolverene. The 
discovery that our new-made lake was nothing else ' 
than a great beaver dam at once decided the question 
as to our remaining in the valley. Here was a source 
of wealth to me, far greater than would have been 
any situation in the mines of Mexico — in fact, better 
than a mine itself. The skin of every beaver in that 
dam I knew to be worth a guinea and a half. I saw 
there were at least a hundred of them — there 
might be many more ; and how soon would these 
multiply into thousands, producing annually four ot 
five young to every pair of them! We could tend 
them, taking care to provide them with food, and 
destroy the wolverenes, and any othei of their ene- 
mies that might exist in the valley. They would 
thus increase the faster ; and we could easily prevent 
them from becoming too numerous, by trapping th< 
older ones, and carefully preserving their skins. Af 


HOW TO BUILD A LOG CABIJN. IT7 

ler several years thus employed, we could return to 
civilized life, carrying with us enough of their valu- 
fible fur to sell for a smart fortune. 

“ The prospect of staying where we were was nov 
delightful ; the more so, as I was satisfied it was th« 
h3st thing I could do. Even had 1 been able to pro- 
cure a pair of fresh oxen at that moment, I should not 
have moved a step farther. What Mary had said in 
lest was now likely to be realized in earnest — TE? 
might yet make our fortune in the desert. 

“ Of course, it was a settled point — we resolved to 
remain. 

“ The first thing to be done, then, was to provide 
ourselves with a house. It would be a ‘ log cabin,’ 
of course ; and putting up a log cabin was a mere 
bagatelle to Cudjo. During our residence in Virginia, 
he had built two or three on my farm ; and no man 
knew better than he how to do the thing. No man 
knew better than he how to shape the logs, notch 
them, and lay them firmly in their beds ; no man 
knew better how to split the^ clapboards, lay them 
on the rafters, and bind them fast, without even a 
single nail ; no man knew how to ‘ chink ’ tht walls, 
clay the chimney, and hang the door of a log cabin, 
better than Cudjo. No; 1 will answer for ihit. 
Cudjo could construct a log cabin as well as the TH^st 
renowned architect in the world. ' 

“There was plenty of the right kind of timber at 


i78 


HOW TO BUILD A LOG CABIN. 


hand — plenty of tulip trees, with their tall, straigh 
trunks, rising to the height of fifty feet without a 
branch ; and for the next two days the axe of Cudjo 
could be heard with its constant ‘ check, check,’ 
while every now and then the crash of a falling tree 
woke the echoes of the valley. While Cudjo was 
felling the timber and cutting it into logs of a proper 
length, none of the rest of us were idle. In cooking 
our meals, scouring the vessels, and looking after 
the children, Mary found sufficient employment ; 
while Frank, Harry, and I, with the help of our 
horse Pompo, were able to drag the logs forward to 
the spot where we had designed to put up the cabin. 

“ On the third day, Cudjo notched the logs, and 
on the fourth we. raised the walls up to the square. 
On the fifth, we set up the gables and rafters, which, 
you know, is done by shortening the gable logs suc- 
cessively, as you go upward, and tying each pair of 
them by a pair of rafters notched into them, at the 
ends, precisely as the wall logs below. A ridge pole 
completed the frame, and that was laid by the 
evening of the fifth day. 

“ Upon the sixth day, Cudjo went to work upon a 
large oak which he had felled and cut into lengths 
of abcut four feet each, at the beginning of our oper- 
ations. It was now somewhat dry, so as to split 
easily and, with his axe and a set of wedges, he 
attacked it. By sunset, he had a pile of clapboards 


HOW TO BUILD A LOG CABIN. 


179 


oeside him as large as a wagon — quite enougli to 
shingle the roof of our house. During that day, 1 
employed myself in tempering the clay for chinking 
the walls and plastering the chimney. 

“ On the seventh day, we all rested from our labc r. 
We did so because it was Sunday. We had resolved 
ever to keep the Sabbath. Though the eyes of men 
couCd not see us, — which I fear is too often the 
re£.son for observing the sacred day, — we knew that 
the eye of God was upon us, even in that remote 
valley. 

“We rose as early as usual, and, after eating our 
breakfasts, the Bible was brought forth, and we 
offered — the only sacrifice to Him acceptable — the 
sacrifice of our humble prayers. Mary had been 
busy during the week, and our little ones were 
dressed out as if for a holiday. T aking them along 
with us, we all walked down to the lake, and some 
distance around its edge. We saw that the beavers 
had been as busy in building as we ; and already 
their cone-shaped dwellings apiteared above the 
water — some of them near the shore, and others 
upon the little islets. There war only one which we 
could reach, and this we examined with great curi- 
osity. It stood only a few yards from the shore, but 
nt a p ace where the water was deep on its front side, 
ft was nearly cone shaped, or, rather, the form of a 
beehive, and was constructed out o^ st-nes, sticks 


iSO HOW TO BUILD A. LOG CAE N 

and mud mixed with grass. Part of it wa:S undo* 
water, but, although we could not look into the inte- 
rior, we knew that there was an upper story above 
water mark, for we saw the ends of the joists that 
8 ipported the second floor. The entrance was towards 
the centre of the lake, and under the water — so that, 
in going out of and into his house, the beaver is 
always under the necessity of making a dive. But 
he does not mind that, as it seems to be rather a 
pleasure to him than an inconvenience. There was 
no entrance towards the land, as we had often heard. 
Indeed, it would be bad policy in the beaver thus to 
make a door by which his enemy, the wolverene, could 
easily get in and destroy him. The houses were all 
plastered over with mud, which, by the flapping of 
the tails, and the constant paddling of the broad, web 
feet, had become as smooth as if the mud had been 
laid on with a trowel. '-We knew that they were also 
plastered inside, so as to render them warm and com- 
modious in winter. 

“ Some of these dwellings were not regular cones, 
but rather of an oval shape ; and sometimes two were 
placed, as it were, ‘ under Oiie roof,’ so as to stead} 
them in the water, and save labor in the building. 
They were all pretty large — many of them rising the 
height of a man above the surface of the lake, and 
with broad tops, where the beavers delighted to si< 
and sun themselves. Each house was built by its 


HOW Tij BUILD A LOG CABIN. 


181 


own inlabitants, and each of them was inhabited by 
a ''single pair of beavers, — man and wife, — and in 
some instances, where there were families, by foui or 
five. Some of them, who had finished their houses 
earlier than the rest, had already commenced gather- 
ing their provisions for the winter. These consisted 
of the leaves and soft twigs of several species of trees. 
— such as willow, birch, and mullierry, — and we saw 
collections of these floating in the water in front of 
several of the houses. 

“It was late in the season for beavers to be con- 
structing a new dam. It is generally in spring when 
they perform that labor ; but it was evident that the 
present colony had just arrived — no doubt driven by 
trappers or Indians, or perhaps drought — from their 
last settlement, hundreds of miles away. We con 
jectured that they must have come up the stream that 
ran away to the eastward. 

“ They must have entered the valley some time 
before we discovered them, as it would have taken 
them several days to gnaw dowm the trees and 
accumulate the materials for the dam that had so 
stiddenly started up to alarm us. Some of these trees 
were nearly a foot in diameter, while many of the 
stones — which*TlTey had rolled up or carried between 
their fore paws and throat — would have weighed 
nearly a score of pounds. 

“ It was evident, then, thev had arrived late in tho 

16 


182 


HOW TO BUILD A LOG CABIN. 


season, and had worked hard to get ready ^or the 
winter. But Cudjo and I were determined, as soon 
as we should have finished our building operations, 
to lend them a hand in laying in their stock of pro* 


miK 8AOAC10US SQUIBREL 


18 S 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE SAGACIOUS SQUIRREL. 

“ While we thus stood watching the movements 
of our beavers, and conversing about the habits of 
these interesting animals, an incident occurred which 
very much amused us, and proved that the beavers 
were not the only animals whom nature had gifted 
with extraordinary sagacity. 

“ Near the middle of the lake stood a clump of tall 
trees — their trunks immersed for two or three feet 
under the water. These trees had been upon the 
bank of the rivulet previous to the formation of the 
dam ; and they were now surrounded on all sides, 
forming a kind of timber islet. It was evident, how- 
ever, that they were destined to decay, as they were 
trees of the poplar species, and such as could not live 
with their roots covered with water. 

“Among the tops of these trees, we observed 
several small animals leaping nimbly about from 
branch to branch, and from one tree to the other. 
They were squirrels. They seemed to be laboring 
under some unusual excitement — as though they had 


m 


THE SAGACIOUS SgUiUkliL. 


been alarmed by the presence of an enemy. 
there did nvt appear to be any such enemy near 
them. We loticed that they passed from tree to 
tree, running down the trunks of each, as far as the 
water would allow them ; and then, after looking 
outward, as if they intended 'to leap into the lake, 
they would suddenly turn back again, and gallop up 
into the high branches. There were in- all about a 
dozen of them ; but the nimbleness with which they 
passed from place to place would have 'led one to 
believe that there were ten times that number ; and 
the twigs and leaves were constantly kept in motion 
as though a large flock of birds were fluttering through 
them. 

“ We had noticed these animals before, from time 
to time, dashing about in the same clump of trees ; 
but not thinking it any thing unusual, had paid no 
attention to their movements. Now, however, it 
occurred to us that these little creatures — who nevei 
take to the water, unless compelled by absolute ne- 
cessity — had been suddenly cut off from their usual 
range by the forming of the dam, and were held 
where they were in a state of captivity. This was 
(he more evident, as the trees had been stripped of 
many of their leaves, and the bark was peeled from 
the more tender twigs and branches. It was plain 
that the squirrels had been living for some time upon 
short allowance, and were anxious to get off from the 


Tfir. SAGACIOUS SQUIRREL. i85 

We now saw what was causing the unusual com- 
motion among them at that particular time. Near 
the clump of trees, but higher up the lake, a small 
log was floating in the water. It had somehow got 
into the stream above, and was being borne down by 
the current. It was at this moment nearing the little 
island of timber upon which were the squirrels but 
it came on very slowly, as the current through the 
lake was hardly perceptible. It was this log that was 
causing such a flurry ; and the animals evidently 
intended, should it come near enough, to use it as 
a raft. 

“ We seated ourselves to watch their manoeuvres. 
On came the log, slowly and gradually ; but, instead 
of drifting directly for the timber, it was borne by the 
current in a direction that would carry it at least 
twenty yards from the trees. The squirrels had 
gathered upon that side ; and now, instead of running 
up and down the trunks, as before, they all stood 
upon the topmost branches, apparently watching tl.a 
motions of the log. - 

“ ‘ Poor little creatures ! ’ said Mary ; ‘ they will 
be unable to reach it, after all. What a pity ! ’ 

“Just as she made this refl(*ciion, the log floated 
torward to the point where it was likely to be near- 
est to the clump in passing. A long branch stretched 
out in that direction ; but, as we calculated, the drift 
>vood waf not likely to pass nearer than twenty 
16 * 


0 


THE {SAGACIOUS SQUIRREL. 


yards. On this branch, however, the squirrels hao 
now gathered, one behind the other, in a long string 
and we could see the foremost of them siraming 
himself as if to spring. 

“ ‘ Surely, they do not intend — surely, they cannot 
leap so far ! ’ said Mary, as we all stood holding oui 
breath, and watching them with intense curiosity. 

“ ‘ Yes, Missa,’ replied Cudjo ; ‘ de do intend. 
Gosh ! de leap him, too. Dis nigga see 'em in 
Vaginny leap far furrer. Looky now! Yonder de 
go — wap ! * 

As Cudjo spoke, the foremost squirrel launched 
out into the air, and the next moment pounced down 
upon the log. Then another followed, and another, 
and another, looking like so many birds flying 
through the air in a string, until the log was covered 
with the little creatures, and floated off with its 
cargo. 

“ We supposed that they had all succeeded in 
getting off ; but in this we were mistaken. On look- 
ing up to the trees again, we saw that there was still 
one remaining. He appeared not to have got out 
upon the projecting branch in time ; for the weight 
of each of those that preceded him, coming down 
upon the log, had pushed it so far off*, that he be- 
came, no doubt, afraid to venture taking such a long 
leap. He was now running to and fro, apparently 
Lc a fian^'c state — both on account of his inability 


THE SAGACIOUS SQUIRREL. 


181 


o escape, and his being thus left alone. For some 
lime he kept springing from tree to tree, running 
down the trunks of all to the very edge of the watei 
and stopping now and again to look hopelessly aftei 
his companions. 

“ At length, we saw him descend a tree, whosa 
bark was exceedingly rough — in fact, crisped out- 
ward in great, broad pieces, or scales of a foot long, 
and several inches broad, that looked as though they 
were about to fall from the tree. For this reason, 
the tree is known among backwoodsmen as the 
‘ scaly bark.’ Having descended this tree, nearly to 
the point where it rose above the water, the squirrel 
was seen to stop ; and for a moment we lost sight of 
him, where he was hidden behind one of the broad 
pieces of bark. We thought he had taken shelter 
there, intending to rest himself. Presently, however, 
we saw the bark moving backwards and forwards; 
and from what we could see of the little animal, it 
was evident he was ^trying with all his might to de- 
tach it from the tree. Occasionally he ran out from 
the crevice, scratched the bark outside with teeth and 
claws, and then hurriedly disappeared again. 

“These strange manoeuvres were kept up for 
several minutes, while we all remained upon the 
shore, watching with curiosity for the result. 

“At length, we saw the piece of bark move 
rapidly outward from the trunk, and hang down 


i88 


THE SAGACIOUS SQUIRREL. 


suspended only by a few fibres. These were sooi» 
gnawed by the teeth of the squirrel, and the broad 
scale fell into the water. It had hardly touched the 
surface, when the animal ran nimbly down, ano 
leaped upon it. There was no current at the spoi 
where the bark fell into the water; and we were in 
doubt whether it would carry him out from among 
the trees ; but we were soon convinced that our 
squirrel knew what he was about. As soon as he 
had fairly balanced himself upon his tiny craft, he 
hoisted his broad, bushy tail high up in the air, bj 
way of a sail ; and the next moment, we saw that 
the breeze, catching upon it, wafted the little mariner 
slowly, but surely, outward. In a few seconds he 
had cleared the trees ; and the wind soon brought 
him within the influence of the current, which caused 
his bark to float downward after his companions. 

“ These had well nigh reached the breastwork of 
the dam ; and Harry wished very much to intercep 
them as they got to land. This wish, however, was 
overruled by his mother, who very justly declared 
that the little creatures deserved to escape, after 
having so well amused us by their ingenuity. 

“ In a short time they all lea; ed ashore, and went 
scampering off* among the trees in search of a din- 
ner — for by this time, no doubt, they were suffi- 
ciently hungry.” 


A BOTJ&E BUILT WITHOUT A NAIL. 


m 


CHAPTRR XX. 

A HOUSE BUILT WITHOUT A NAIL. 

Next day Cudjo and I went on with our housfl 
Building This dely was appropriated to roofing it. 
We first laid a row of the clapboards, projecting 
considerably over the eaves, so as to cast the water 
far out. These we secured near their lower ends by 
a long, straight pole, which traversed the roof hori- 
zontally from gable to gable, and was lashed down 
by strips of wet elk hide. These we knew would 
tighten as they dried, and press the pole firmer than 
ever against the boards. 

“ We now laid a second row of the clapboards — 
with their lower ends riding the upper ones of the 
first row, and thus securing them. The second row 
was in its turn secured by a horizontal pole along 
its bottom, and at its top by the lower ends of the 
third row ; and so on up to the ridge. 

“ The other side was shingled in a similar manner 
and the ridge itself was secured against .teakage, bj 
allowing the clapboards on one side to project up- 
wards, and shelter the ends of those on the othe? 


I5K) A HOUSE BUILT WITHOUT A MAIL. 

This gave our cabin quite a chanticleer sort of ohi/j 
along its top, and added to the picturesqueness of its 
appearance. 

“ Our house was now built and roofed, and we 
could say that we had finished a house without ever 
having been inside of it — for as yet it had neither 
door nor windows. As the spaces between the logs 
were not yet ‘ chinked,’ it looked more like a gigantic 
cage than a house. 

“ Our next day was devoted to making the door 
and window — that is, making the apertures where 
these were to be. We designed having only one 
window — in the back. 

“ The manner in which we opened our doorway 
was very simple. Having first carefully rested the 
logs — which were to be on each side of the door — 
upon firm wedges, we sawed away the parts between. 
Fortunately, we had a saw, or this operation would 
nave given us a good deal of trouble. Of course, we 
sawea away the proper size for a door; and thus our 
dooiway, by placing the lintels and posts, was com- 
plete. In a similar manner, we cut out our window 
in the back. We then went to work upon one of 
the sof tulip trees, and sawed out enough plank tr 
make a door and window, or, rather, a window shutte: 
These we cut to the proper size, and bound them 
together by slats, ana treenails made out of the hard 
locust wood. We then hung then:; — both door and 


A HOC/.E BlflLr WITHOUT A NAIL- 


191 


windo\\ shutter — with strips of elk skin. That night 
we carried in all our bedding and utensils, and slept 
under the roof of our new house. 

It was still far from being finished ; and the next 
day we set about building a fireplace and chimney. 
This, of course, was to be in one of the gable ends, 
and we chose that looking northward — for we had 
built our cabin fronting to the east. We wedged the 
logs precisely as we had done with the door, and 
then sawed away the. space between, up to the 
height of an ordinary mantel-piece. Behind this, and 
altogether outside the house, we built a fireplace of 
stones and clay, — laying a hearth of the same ma- 
terials, that completely covered the sleeper, — in 
order to prevent the latter from being burnt. On 
the top of this fireplace, the chimney was still to be 
erected ; and this was done by notching short, straight 
pieces of timber, and placing them across each other, 
exactly as we had laid the logs of the house itself 
These pieces were put in shorter as we advanced to 
the top — so that the top ones might be lighter and 
more easily supported by those below ; and when 
the whole was finished, and the chinks filled with 
clay our chimney tapered upward like the funnel of 
a little factory. The chimney and fireplace occu- 
pied us quite a day, and at night — although it waf 
not very cold — we tried it with a log fire. It drew 
beautifully 


i92 


A HOUSi, HUlL’I WITHOUT A HAfL 


“ Next day we ‘ chinked ’ the walls all round witr 
chips, stones, and clay. VV 3 chinked gables and all 
until not a hole w'as to be seen that would let a mouse 
through. The floor still remained ; but we intended 
tD lay this with plank, and as we had no means of 
getting them except by our small saw, and the' 
would require some time to dry, we resolved to at- 
tend, first, to several other things that were of more 
necessity, and finish the floor at our leisure. We 
carpeted the ground, which was quite dry, with green 
palmetto leaves, and that rendered it sufficiently 
comfortable for the present. We now formally en- 
tered our new house, which we had built from floor 
to chimney without a nail ! 

“ Our next care was to furnish our horse with a 
house — in other words, to build a stable. Not that 
the weather rendered it at all necessary for Pompo — 
so our Horse was called — to sleep under a roof ; but 
we were fearful lest some beast of prey, prowling 
about by night, should fancy him — as the carcajou 
had fancied our poor ox. 

“ The stable was only a two days’ job, as we buib 
I, out of logs already cut, and roofed it with the 
refuse of our clapboards. Besides, we had no win- 
dow nor chimney to make, and we did not chink the 
logs, as that was not necessary for a stable in such a 
climate. Our horse would be warm enough without 
that ; and Cudjo had made him a trough, by hollowing 
out one of the ♦ulic ♦rees- 


A HOUSE BUILT WITHOUT A NAIL. 


193 


“ From that time forth, Pompo was regularly called 
every evening at sunset, and shut up in his stable. 
We could not afford to let the carcajou make a meal 
of him, as in our log hauling and other labors he was 
of great service to us. 

“ As soon as the stable was finished, we set to 
work and put up a table and six strong chairs. As 
1 have said, we had no nails ; but, fortunately enough, 
I had both a chisel and auger, with several other use- 
ful tools.- All of these I had brought in the great 
chest from Virginia, thinking they might be needed 
on our beautiful farm at Cairo. With the help of 
these, and Cudjo’s great skill as a joiner, we were 
able to mortise and dovetail at our pleasure ; and I 
had made a most excellent glue from the horns of 
the elk and ox, along with their hoofs. We wanted 
a plane to polish our table ; but this was a want which 
we could easily endure. The lid of our table was 
made of plank sawed out of the catalpa tree ; and 
with some pieces of pumice I had picked up* in the 
valley, and the constant scouring which it received 
at the hands of our housewife, it soon exhibited 
a surface as smooth as glass. From my finding this 
pumice stone, I concluded that our snow mountain 
had once been a volcano — perhaps like the peak of 
Teneriffe, standing alone in the water, when the great 
plain ai ■>und us had been covered with a sea. 

“ Cudjo and I did not forget the promise we had 
. ' 17 


B 


194 


A HOUSE BUILT WITHOUT A NAIL. 


made to beavers. We could see these littla 
creatures, from day to day, very busy in drawing 
large brandies to the water, and then floating them 
towards their houses. We knew that this was for 
their winter provisions. ’ They had grown quite tame, 
as soon as they found we were not going to molest 
them, and frequently came out on our side of the 
lake. For this confidence on their part, we were 
determined to give them a treat they little dreamed of 

• at least, of receiving from our hands. 

“ I had noticed a clump of beautiful trees, which 
grew near one side of the glade, and not far from 
where we had built our house. Our attention had 
been called to them by the aromatic fragrance of 
their flowers^that blew around us all th^ time we 
were engaged in building. They were low, crooked 
trees, not over thirty feet in height, with oval leaves, 
six inches in length, and of a bluish-green color. 
The flowers were about the size of a rose, although 
more like a lily in appearance, and white as snow. 
Their perfume was extremely agreeable ; and Mary 
was in the habit of gathering a bunch of them daily, 
and placing them in a vessel of water. 

“ I have already said that my wife understood 
botany ; and all botanists take a pleasure in imparting 
their knowledge to others. She explained to us, 
therefore, the nature and properties of this sweet- 
•cented tree. It was a species of magnolia — not 


A HOTJSE BUILT WITHOUT A NAIL. 


- 


that which is celebrated for its large flowers, but 
another kind. It was the magnolia glaiica^ some- 
times called ‘ swamp sassafras,’ but more generally 
known among hunters and trappers as the ‘ beaver 
tree.’ It is so named by them, because the beaver 
is foi.der of its roots than of any other food ; so fond 
of it, indeed, that it is often used as a bait to the traps 
by which these animals are caught. 

“Whether our beavers had already discovered their 
favorite tree in some other part of the valley, we did 
not know. Probably they had ; but, at all events. 
Cudjo and I, by a very little labor, with our spade 
and axe, could save them a great deal ; and so we set 
about it. 

“ In a few hours, we had dug up several armfuls of 
the long, branching roots, and carried them down to 
the edge of the lake. We flung them into the water 
at a place where we knew the animals w^ere in the 
habit of frequenting. In a short time, the aromatic 
roots were discovered, when a whole crowd of beavers 
were seen hurrying to the spot, and swimming oF 
again to their houses, each with a root or a whole 
bunch of thsm in his teeth. That was a grand festi* 
yal for the beavers.’' 


m 


A BATTUE O.^ BLACKTAll,»- 


CHAPTER XXL 

A BATTUE OF BLACKTAILS. 

“Of course, we could do nothing more for Ovii 
beavers, at present. It was not our intention to trap 
any of them until they should become very numerous, 
and then we could obtain, annually, a large number of 
skins. Their tails, we knew, were very good to eat, 
— in fact, quite a delicacy, — but we could i i . afford 
to kill one of them merely for the sake of eating his 
tail ; and the other parts of the beaver’s flesh are b)‘ 
no means palatable. Besides, we expected to find 
enough of game without that, as in every part, where 
the ground was soft, we saw the tracks of deer and 
other animals. 

“ By the time we had fairly furnished our house, 
the flesh of the elk was beginning to run short, so 
that a grand hunting excursion was determined upon. 
It was also to be an exploring expedition, as, up to 
this time, we had not visited any pan of the 'valley 
except that which lay immediately around our house. 
Frank, Harry, and myself were to form the party, 
while C'Hjo was to remain by the louse, and guard 


A BATTUE OF BLACKTAILS. 


19*5 


fr»e female portion of our little community with his 
great spear, 

“ Every thing being ready, we started out with 
our three rifles, and took the route up the valley. 
As we passed along under high trees, we could see 
squirrels upon all sides of us ; some of them sitting 
on their hind quarters, like little monkeys ; some of 
them cracking nuts ; some of them barking, like toy 
dogs; while others, again, leaped about among the 
branches. Of course, as we advanced upon them, 
they sprang up the trees, or streaked off along the 
ground, so swiftly, that it seemed more like the flight 
of a bird than the running of a four-footed animal. 
On reaching a tree, they would gallop up it, generally 
keeping on the opposite side to that on which we 
were, so that they might be secure. Sometimes, 
however, their curiosity would get the better of their 
fears, and, when they had climbed as high as the 
first or second forking of the branches, they would 
stop there, and gaze down upon us, all the while 
flourishing their light, bushy tails. We had excellent 
opportunities of getting a shot at them, and Harry, 
who was not so thoughtful as his brother, wished 
very much tc try his skill ; but I forbade this, telling 
him that we could not aflbrd to throw away our am- 
mun non on such small game. Indeed, this was a 
thought that frequently entered my mind, and made 
me anxious about what we should do when oui 
17 * 


198 


A BATTUE OF BLACKTAILS. 


ammunilion became exhausted. I cautioner noth 
my boys, therefore, not to spend a single shot on 
any animal smaller than elk or deer ; and they prom ' 
ised to obey me. 

“ When we had gone about a mile up stream, vra 
saw that the trees grew thinner as we advanced, and 
ii.en opened into small glades, or spaces covered with 
herbage and flowers, usually called ‘ openings.’ This, 
surely, was the very place to find deer — much more 
likely than in the thick woods, where these animals 
are in more danger from the cougar and carcajou, 
that occasionally drop upon them from the trees. 
We had not gone far among these openings before 
we saw fresh tracks. They were more like the 
tracks of a goat than those of a deer, except that they 
were much larger. They were nearly as large as the 
tracks of the elk ; but we knew they were not these. 

“ We advanced with great caution, keeping in the 
underwood as much as possible. At length we saw 
that there was a large glade before us, much larger 
than any we had yet passed. We could tell this by 
the wide, clear spaces that appeared through the trees. 
We stole silently forward to the edge of this glade, 
and, to our great satisfaction, saw a herd of deer 
feeding quietly out upon the open ground. 

“ ‘ Papa, they are not deer,’ said Frank, as we first 
came in sight of them. See ! who ever heard of 
deer with such ears as those ? I declare, they are a 
ong ns n mulp’si 


A BATTUE OF BLACKTAILS. 


199 


* ‘ Yes,’ added Harry ; ‘ and who ever heard of 
deer with black tails ? ’ 

I confess I was myself puzzled for a while. The 
animals before us were certainly deer, as their long, 
slender legs, and great, branched antlers testified ; 
but they were very different from the common kind, 
and different, too, from the elk. They were much 
larger than the red, or fallow deer, though not un- 
like them in shape and color. But that which was 
Btiange, as my boys had at once noticed, was the 
peculiarity of their ears and tails. The former were 
quite as long as the ears of a mule, and reached more 
than half way to the tops of their antlers. Their 
tails, again, were short and buShy, of a whitish color 
underneath, but on the top and above as black as the 
wing of a crow. There were also some black hairs 
upon their backs, and a black stripe along the neck 
and shoulders, while their noses, on each side, were 
of a pale, ashy color — all of which marks gave them 
a very different appearance from the Virginian or 
English deer. 

“ I have said that I was at first puzzled ; but I soon 
recollected having heard of these animals, although 
they are but little known to naturalists. They could 
be no other than the ‘ black-tailed deer ’ of the Rocky 
Mountains — the cervus macrotis described by the 
naturalist Say. This was evident, both from theii 
size, the great length of their ears but more than all 


^00 


A BATTUE OF BLACKTAIES 


w'rorn the color of their tails ; from which last ciicum 
stance their common name has been given them bj 
the hunters and trappers. ^ 

“ We did not stop long to examine them. Wa 
were too anxious to have a shot at them ; but hoM 
were we to get near enough ? There were seven of 
them in the herd ; but they were quite out in the 
middle of the glade, and that was more than three 
hundred yards wide. The nearest of the seven was 
beyond the range even of my long rifle. What, then, 
was best to be done ? 

“ After thinking about this for a moment, I saw 
that an open passage led out of the glade through 
the trees, on the other side. It was a wide avenue 
leading into some other glade ; and I knew that the 
deer, when startled, would be most likely to make ofi* 
in that direction. I determined, therefore, to creep 
round to the other side, and intercept them as they 
attempted to run through. Frank was to remain 
where we first saw them ; while Harry would go half 
way along with me, and then take his stand behind a 
tree. We should thus enclose the deer in a sort of 
triangle, and some one of us would be sure of getting 
them within range before they could escape. 

“ I had scarcely got to the edge of the openings 
when I saw that the herd was browsing in towards 
Frank. They were every moment getting closer and 
closer lo him, and I watched eagerly for the shot I 


A BATTUE OF BLACKTAILS. 


*201 


knew he would not fire until they were very near, ai 
I bad cautioned him not to do so, on account of the 
smallness of his rifle. Presently I saw the stream 
of smoke and fire issuing from the leaves ; then fol- 
lowed the sharp crack, and then the yelping of our 
dogs as they broke forward. At the same time, one 
of the deer was seen to spring upward and fall dead 
in its tracks. The others wheeled and ran, first one 
way and then another, in their confusion ; until, after 
doubling several times, they made towards the open- 
ing where I stood. In their flight, however, they had 
gone too close to Harry ; and, as they were running 
past his stand, the tiny crack of a rifle was heard 
among the bushes, and another of the blacktails 
rolled over on the plain. 

“ It was now my turn ; and I prepared myself to 
make the best shot I could, or be beaten by my own 
boys. So, as they came up, I let drive at them, to my 
mortification, missing them everyone — as I thought 
at the moment. It soon appeared, however, that I 
vas mistaken in this. Castor and Pollux swept past 
upon the heels of the herd ; and before they had dis- 
appeared out of the long avenue, I saw the dogs 
spring upon the haunches of one that lagged behind, 
and drag him to the ground. I ran to their assist- 
ance, and, seizing the wounded animal by one of its 
antlers, soon put an end to it with my knife. I had 
wounded it in the flankc and that had enabled the 


202 


A BATTUE OF BLACKTAILS.. 


mastiffs to overtake it, which they could not have 
done otherwise, as its companions were at the time 
several hundred yards ahead of it. We all now came 
together, exulting in the fine fortune we had met vith, 
for we had made a regular battue of it. We were 
glad that none of us had missed, and that we had 
succet^ded in obtaining so much good meat; for we 
were not slaughtering these beautiful creatures out 
of wanton sport, but from the necessity of procuring 
food. Each congratulated the others upon their good 
shooting, and said nothing of his own — although it 
was plain that all three of us were proud of our re- 
spective shots. To do justice, however, that of Harry 
was decidedly the best. He had knocked his one 
over while on the run — no easy matter with these 
blacktails, who do not gallop regularly as other deer, 
but bound forward, lifting all their feet together, aa 
you will sometimes see sheep do. This mode of run- 
ning is one of the peculiarities of their species; 
which, perhaps, more than any other thing, distin- 
guishes them from the common deer. 

“ After carefully wiping out, and then reloading 
our rifles, we rested them against the trees, and set 
to work to skin our game. 

‘ While engaged in this operation, Harry com 
plained of thirst. Indeed, we were all thirsty as weL 
for the sun was hot, and we had walked a good dis 
ance. We could not be far from the stream althougl 


A BATTUE OF BLACKTAII S. 


203 


we ^vere not sure of its direction ; and Harry, taking 
the tin cup which we had brought with us, set out tc 
find it, promising soon to return with water for Cim 
reliof. He had only left us but a short while, when 
we heard him calling back through the trees ; and^ 
think'ng that some animal might have attacked him, 
Frank and I siezed our rifles, and ran after him. Oc 
coming up, we were surprised to find him standing 
quietly on the bank of a crystal rivulet, holding the 
cup full of water in his hand. 

“ ‘ Why did you bring us away ? ’ asked Frank. 

“ ‘ Taste this,’ replied he ; ‘ here’s a pickle ! ’ 

‘‘‘O papa! cried Frank, after applying the cup 
to his lips ; ‘ salt as brine, I declare.’ 

“ ‘ Salt you may say,’ continued his brother ; ‘ the 
sea itself is not so salt. Taste it, papa.’ 

“ I did as I was desired ; and, to my delight, I 
found that the water of the rivulet was, what Frank 
had alleged, ‘salt as brine.’ I say to my delight, 
for I was greatly pleased at this discovery. The 
boys could not understand this, as they, being now 
very thirsty, would much rather have met with a cup 
of fresh, than a whole river of salt water. I soon 
pointed out to them the importance of what we had 
found. We had been n great need of salt, — for we 
had not a single grain of it, — and had felt the want 
ever since our arrival in the valley. Only they who 


204 


A BATTUE OF BLACKTaILS. 


cannot get salt can understand what a terrible thing 
it is to be without this homely but necessary article 

“ The flesh of our elk, which for many days pas 
we lived upon, had proved quite insipid for want of 
salt, and we had not been able to make a soup that 
was in any way palatable. Now, however, we should 
have as much as we desired ; and I explained to my 
companions, that, by simply boiling this water in oui 
kettles, we should obtain the very thing we so much 
stood in need of. This, as they saw, would be great 
news for mamma on our return ; and the prospect of 
making her happy, by imparting the information, 
rendered all of us impatient to get back. We did 
not stay a moment by the salt stream, which was a 
very small rivulet of blue water, and evidently run- 
ning from some spring that bubbled in the valley. 
Not far below us, we saw where it ran into the main 
stream of fresh water ; and, keeping down to the lat- 
ter, we quenched our thirst, and then went back to 

I 

our work. 

“ We made all the haste we could, and our three 
blacktails were soon skinned, quartered, and hung 
upon the trees, so as to be out of reach of the wolves 
while we should be gone. We now shouldered oui 
rifles, ana hurried back to the house.” 


CATCH. NG A TARTAR. 


206 


CHAPTER XXn, 

CATCHING A TARTAR. 

Of course, Mary was much pleased on hearing of 
fnd discovery we had made. One of the first requi- 
sites of a housewife is a supply of good salt ; and 
that we promised to obtain for her on the morrow. 
It was our intention to carry the kettle up to the sail 
stream, and there manufacture the article, as that 
would be more convenient than to bring the water 
down to the house. This piece of work we laid out 
for the next day. Meanwhile, as it was not yet near 
night, we caught Pompo, and set off again to bring 
our blacktails home. This required us to make sev- 
eral journeys, as we had no cart by which we could 
bring the deer all at once, and each of them was as 
.arge as a good-sized heifer. We succeeded, how- 
ever, in getting all to the house before sunset, except 
the skins, which we left hanging on the trees for 
another day. While the boys and I had been engaged 
at this work, Cudjo was not idle It was our inten- 
tion to cure the venison — not by ‘jerking,’ as we had 
d^ne the elk meat, but with the salt, which we were 
18 


20H CATCHING A TARTAR. 

about to make on the morrow. For tliis purpose 
we should require a large vessel, capable of holding 
the pickle. We had nothing of the sort ; and, of 
course, we were puzzled for a while as to how we 
should manage without it. It was early in the day — 
before we had brought in the venison — that this 
difficulty occurred to us. 

“ ‘ Why could we not leave it in the stream 
itself } ’ asked Harry, ‘ The water is very clear, 
and there are clean, hard rocks on the bottom. Why 
could we not sink the quarters of venison on these 
rocks, and make them fast, by placing great stone.^. 
on them .? ’ 

Ha, ha!’ laughed Frank; ‘trust the wolves for 
finding them there. These gentry would soon empty 
vour famous pickle barrel.’ 

“ ‘ Look hyar, Massa,’ said Cudjo ; ‘ this nigga sees 
no difficulty ’bout dat. He soon make a place for 
de meat.’ 

^ How, Cudjo ? ’ inquired Mary. 

Why, Missa, same ’s dey make de ole dug-out 

V^aginny — by hollering out de log.’ 

This was the very thing itself. A log hollowei 
.rtit after the manner of a canoe, or ‘ dug-out,’ — as 
Cudjo was used to designate this species of craft, — 
would answer the purpose admirably ; and Cudjo, 
having chosen a fine large section of a tulip tree 
went to work. By the time we had got our last load 


CATCHING A TARTAR. 


201 


to the house, he had made a cavity .in the tree, tha 
was large enough to contain the three blacktails at 
once. A valuable idea was also suggested by this 
operation. We remembered the wooden trays, dishes, 
and other utensils — made in this way — that we had 
often seen among the negroes on our plantation. 
These, however rude, we saw answered the purpose 
well ; and we might hereafter supply ourselves in a 
similar manner. 

“ After breakfast, the next morning, we started for 
the salt stream. We all went together; Mary riding 
the horse, while Cudjo and I carried the children in 
our arms. Frank and Harry took the kettle upon 
a long pole between them, each, at the same time, 
having his rifle in the other hand. The dogs, of 
course, followed us, and our house was left to take 
care of itself. We had hung the venison upon high 
branches, lest the wolves might take a fancy to it in 
our absence. 

“ Mary was charmed with the scenery as we 
passed along, particularly where the woods began to 
open, as they did, towards the upper end of the valley. 
She noticed the various kind of trees as we advanced, 
and at one time uttered a joyous exclamation, as 
'.hough she had seen something that pleased her more 
than common. 

“ We all questioned her as to what it was , but 
she would satisfy us no further than by telling ui 


208 


CATCHING A TART^AR. 


that she had made a discovery of nearly as mucn 
importance as our salt river. We were all curious 
to know what it was; but my wife checked our 
curiosity by observing, very justly, that, as we were 
happy enough at that time, she might make us too 
happy ; and she should therefore reserve her secre. 
until we got back to our house in the evening 
‘ We may then be weary and out of spirits,’ added 
she ; ‘ but I have something to tell that will make you 
all merry again.’ 

“ I could not help admiring the good sense and 
patience of my wife, thus reserving pleasant news 
for a time when they might be more available in pro- 
ducing a happy effect. 

“ As we were all marching through a small glade, 
talking and laughing in high glee, an animal leaped 
out of some bushes before us, and ran slowly off to 
one side. It was a beautiful little creature, about the 
ize of a cat, with dark, glossy hair, spotted about the 
head and neck, and with clear, white stripes running 
along its back. It did not go far before it stopped, 
and, throwing up its long, bushy tail, looked back at 
uc with the playful and innocent air of a kitten. I 
Knew very well what the pretty creature was. Not 
BO the impetuous Harry, who, thinking that here was 
*he very ‘ pet ’ he wanted, dropped his pole, kettle, 
and all, and made after it. 

“ I cried out to him to desist, but the b( y, either mV 


I 


CATCHING A TARTAR. 


209 


Aearing HiC, — on account of the yelping of the dogs^ 
who hod also started in pursuit, — or being too intent on 
making a capture, ran on after the animal. But the 
chase did not last long. The little creature, appar- 
ently not the least frightened at the terrible enemies 
that were so close upon its heels, stood near the 
edge of the glade, as if to await its pursueie. 
Harry, as he ran, was all the while eagerly scolding 
off the dogs. He wanted to take the little beauty 
alive, and he feared that the mastiffs would kill it 
before he could come up. It looked, too, as if they 
would ; for they were now almost on top of it, yelping 
with open mouths. Just at this moment, the strange 
animal was seep to elevate its hind quarters, throw 
its long tail forward over its back, and give a sud- 
den jerk of its body, as if by way of an insult to 
its pursuers. But it meant something more than a 
mere insult. It meant to punish them for their 
audacity. The effect of that singular movement was 
at' once apparent. The dogs suddenly wheeled in 
their tracks. Their victorious yelping was changed 
to a fearful howling ; and both of them ran back, 
thrusting their noses into the grass, and capering 
over the ground as if they had' either been stung by 
wasps, or had suddenly fallen into convulsions. 
Harry stopped for a moment wondering at this. He 
did not stop long. The next moment we saw him 
throw his haTnds up to his face, and, uttering a cry that 
18* s ' 


210 


CATCHING A TARTAR. 


betokened pain and terror, come running back as quick 
as he had gone off. 

The polecat, (for it was a polecat — the mepkitU 
chinga^ or American skunk,) for an instant after he 
had discharged the fetid shower, stood looking over 
his shoulder in such a way, that we could almost 
fancy he was laughing. Then jerking his tail from 
side to side in a frolicsome manner, he made a bound 
into the bramble, and disappeared. 

“ Whether the skunk laughed or not, we did — 
especially Frank, who took this method of retaliating 
upon his brother for dropping the great kettle 
against his shins. But we had no time to lose In 
talk, until we could get some distance from the 
glade, which was now filled with the~ suffocating 
smell. So, calling upon Harry to lay hold of his 
burden, we hurried as quickly as possible from the 
spot- The dogs, how^ever, brought the effluvia 
along with them ; and it required unusual scolding 
and pelting of stones to keep them at a respectfui 
distance. Harry had come off better than I expected, 
as the animal had directed its battery against the 
dogs, and he had only received enough of the 
discharge to punish him for his rashness and dis- 
obedience. 

“As we continfied our journey, I took the oppor 
tunity to instruct my children in the habits of thii 
Hingular animal. 


CATCHING A TAB TAR. 


211 


‘‘You have seen,’ said I, addressing myself to 
Frank and Harr/, ‘ that it is about the size of a cat, 
although broader and fleshier in the body, lower upon 
the limbs, and with a sharper and more elongated 
snout. 

“‘You have seen that it is a spotted and striped 
animal — and in this respect it also resembles the cat, 
as these spots and stripes are diflferent upon different 
individuals of the same species — so much so, that no 
two skunks are exactly alike. 

“ ‘ You have witnessed the efficient means with 
which nature has armed it against its enemies ; and 
I shall now tell you all the rest that is known of its 
habits. 

“ ‘ It is a carnworous creature — destroying, and eat- 
ing many other beings that have life as well as itself. 
For this purpose it is furnished with strong, sharp 
claws, and three kinds of teeth, one of which — termed 
canine, or tearing teeth — is a certain symplom of its 
being a carnivorous, or flesh-eating animal. You 
must know, that the shape of the teeth will alway? 
tell this. Those animals that feed upon vegetables 
such as horses, sheep, rabbits, and deer, have nont 
of these canine teeth. Well, the skunk has four of 
them, — two in each jaw, and very sharp ones, too,— 
and with these he kills and eats (whenever he if 
lucky enough to get hold of them) rabbits, poultry 
birds, mice, f^’ogs, and lizards. He is very fond of 


212 


CATCHING A TARTAR. 


eggs, too, and frequently robs the farm yard, and thft 
nests of the ruffed grouse and wild turkey — killing 
these birds whenever he can catch them. The kill- 
ing, however, is not all upon his side — as the wolf, 
the horned owl, the wolverene, and the farmer, in 
their turn, kill him^ whenever they can catch him. 
He is not by-any means a fast runner, and his safety 
does not lie in his swiftness of foot. His defensive 
armor is found in the fetid effluvia, which, by a 
muscular exertion, he is capable of ejecting upon his 
pursuer. This he carries in two small sacs that lie 
under his tail, with ducts leading outward about as 
large as the tube of a goosequill. The effluvia itself 
is caused by a thin fluid, which cannot be seen in 
daylight, but at night appears, when first ejected, like 
a double stream of phosphoric light. He can throw 
it to the distance of five yards, and, knowing this, he 
always waits till the pursuer has fairly got within 
range — as the one we have just seen did with Castor 
and Pollux. The discharge of this fluid rarely fails 
to drive off such enemies as wolves, dogs, and men. 
Sometimes it occasions sickness and vomiting ; and it 
iH said that there are Indians who have lost their eye- 
sight from inflammation caused by it. Dogs are 
frequently swollen and inflamed for weeks, after 
having received the discharge of a skunk. In addi- 
tion to the disagreeableness of this odor, there is no 
getting rid of it after the fluid has once been sprinkled 


CArCHING A TARTAR 


213 


over your garments. Clothes may be washed and 
buried for nonths, but it will still cling to then* ; and 
where a shunk has been killed, the spot will retain 
the scent for many months after, even though deep 
snow may have lain upon it. 

“It is only when attacked or angered that the 
animal sends forth his offensive fluid ; and when 
killed suddenly, or before he has time to ‘ fire it off,* 
nothing of the kind is perceived upon his carcass. 

“ * The skunk is a burrowing animal, and in cold 
countries he enters his hole, and sleeps in a half 
torpid state throughout the winter. In warm climates, 
however, he continues to prowl about all the year 
round, generally at night — as, like most predatory 
creatures, the uight is his day. In his burrow, which 
runs several yards underground, he lives, in com- 
pany with ten or a dozen of his companions. The 
female has a nest in one part, made of grass and 
leaves, where she brings forth her young — having 
from five to nine kittens at a birth. 

‘ Strange as it may appear, the Indians, as well 
as many white men, — hunters and others, — eat the 
flesh of this animal, and pronounce it both savory 
and agreeable — equal, as they allege, to the finest 
roast fig. So much for the skunk and his habits. 
New tc the making of our salt.’ ” 


21-1 


THE SALT SPRING. 


chaptj:r xxiii. 

THE SALT SPRING. 


“We had now arrived on the banks of the salt 
creek ; but as we saw the cliff close by, and knew ^ 
that we must be near the spring which supplied this 
little rivulet, we resolved to travel on to the fountain 
head. A few hundred yards farther brought us to 
the spring, and it was well worth travelling a little 
farther to see. 

“ Near the bottom of the cliff were several round 
objects, looking like half globes, or bowls turned 
upon their mouths. They were of a whitish color, 
resembling white quartz rock; and of all sizes, from 
that of a large baking oven to the size of a wooden 
dish. In the top of each there was a round cavity, — 
like a little crater of a volcano, — and in this the blue 
water bubbled and boiled as though a hot fire was in 
the ground underneath, them. There were in all 
nearly twenty of these, but many of them were with 
out the crater-like cavity in the top ; and through the 
latter, of course, no water escaped to the creek. The 5 
were old ones, that had ceased to run. 


r 


THE SALT SPRING. 


2J5 


It was evident that these oven-looking mounds 
had been formed by the water itself, which had been 
depositing the sediment that formed them for many, 
many years. Around some of them there grew beau- 
tiful plants and shrubs, whose leaves and flowers 
hung over, trailing in the water ; and from the cliff 
above long vines jrept out, covered with gay,' scarlet 
blossoms. Bushes of wild currants grew all around, 
and the fragrance of their leaves scented the air. It 
was altogether a sweet, cool spot, and filled us with 
feelings of enjoyment. 

“ After we had satisfied our curiosity in examining 
these objects, we prepared to make our salt. Frank 
and Harry collected armfuls of dry wood for the 
fire, while Cudjo erected a crane in his usual fashion- 
Upon this the kettle was suspended, and filled with 
crystal water out of one of the natural basins. The 
fire soon blazed under it, and we had nothing more to 
do than wait until the evaporation should be completed 
by boiling. 

“ For this purpose, we chose a spot where the 
ground was carpeted with a soft, green turf, and upon 
it we all sat down to wait the result. 

“ I need not say that in this we had a deep in- 
terest, amounting, in truth, to anxiety. It might not 
be salt, after all. The water tasted salt — that ia 
true. But so, too, would water impregnated by the 
muT.ate of magnesia or ‘he sulphate of soda. When 


216 


THE SALT SPRING. 


evaporated, vve might find one or other of these 
substances. 

“ ‘ What is the muriate of magnesia, papa ? ’ in 
quired Frank. 

“ ‘ Perhaps you would know it better by the name 
of Epsom salts ! ’ rejoined his mother, with a know- 
ing smile. 

“ * Bah ! ’ returned he, with a grin upon his face , 
‘ I hope it won’t turn out that. But what sort of thing 
then, is the sulphate of soda ? ’ 

“ ‘ That is the scientific name for Glauber’s salts. 

u c Worse still ! I don’t think we stand in need of 
either. Do we, Harry ? ’ 

“ ‘ Not a bit of it,’ responded Harry, also grinning 
at the thought of these well-known specifics. ‘ I 
would rather it should turn out saltpetre and sulphur 
Then we could make lots of gunpowder.’ 

“ Harry was a great shot, as we have seen ; and 
one of his fears was, that our stock of powder should 
run out. 

“ ‘.Do not wish for that, Harry,’ said his mother. 
‘ Gunpowder we can do very well without. Let 
us hope for something more necessary to us at 
present.’ 

“With such like conversation we passed. the time 
while we watched the steaming kettle with feelings of 
anxious expectation. 

“ For myself, I had some reliance upon a fac’ 











THE SALT vSl*KING. 


till 

which 1 bad observed years before, and had regarded 
Es singular. It was this : I believe the Creator has 
JO disposed it, that salt, so essential to animal life, 
should be found in all parts of the globe, either in 
rocks, springs, standing lakes, incrustations, or in the 
ocean itself. No part of the earth of great extent is 
without it ; and I -had noticed in the interior terri- 
tories of the American continent — where the sea was 
too distant to be visited by animals — that nature had 
provided numerous salt springs, or Micks,’ as they 
are termed in the language of the country. These 
springs from time immemorial have been the meeting- 
place of the wild creatures of the forest and prairie, 
who resort thither to drink their waters, or lick the 
saline soil through which these waters run. Hence 
their common name. Here, then, was a valley, 
whose four-footed inhabitants never roamed beyond 
its borders. I believed that nature^had provided for 
their wants and cravings by giving them every thing 
necessary to their existence, ’ and among the other 
necessities that one which we were now in search 
of ourselves — salt. In other words, but that this 
was a salt spring, or there existed some other such 
in the valley, these creatures would not have been 
found within it. I took the opportunity to point out 
this fact to my boys, as well as to show them what 
I myself clearly recognized in it — the hand of the 
Creator It rendered them more confident that, when 


218 


THE SALT SPRING. 


we had e\aporated our water, we should get salt foi 
our pains. 

“ ‘ Papa,’ inquired Frank, who was a great natii 
ralist, ‘ I should like to know what makes this iittle 
rivulet run salt water.’ 

“ ‘ No doubt,’ 1 replied, ‘ the water yo i see gushing 
rorlti has just been passing among vast beds of rock 
salt, and has become impregnated with it.’ 

“ ‘ Rock salt ! and is the salt we use found in 
rocks ? ’ 

‘ Not all of it, though great quantities are. There 
are beds of rock salt found in many countries — in 
England, and the East Indies, in Russia, and Hun- 
gary, and Spain ; and it has also been discovered in 
vast quantities in this very desert we are now in. 
These beds of rock salt, when worked to supply salt 
to people, are called salt mines. The most cele- 
brated are in Poland, near the city of Cracow. These 
have been worked for seven hundred years, and there 
is enough left in them yet to supply all the world for 
many centuries to come. These mines are said to be 
very beautiful, lit up, as they are, by numerous 
lamps. The rock has been excavated by the miners 
into all sorts of shapes ; houses, chapels, columns, 
obelisks, and many other ornamental forms of build- 
ings have been made ; and these, when illuminated 
by lamps and torches, become as splendid and bril 
iant as the palaces of Aladdin ’ 


THE SALT SPK NO. 


219 


“ ‘ O, I should like so much to see them ! ’ cried 
Harry, in a transport. 

‘ ‘ But, papa,’ inquired Frank, who always sough 
after information on such subjects, ‘ I never saw any 
of this rock salt. How is it that it comes to ua 
always crushed, or in great bricks, as if it had been 
baked ^ Do they break it fine before it is sent to 
market from the mines ? ’ 

“ ‘ In some of these mines, nothing more is required 
than to crush the rock ; in others, however, the rock 
is not pure salt, but mixed with other substances, as 
oxide of iron and clay. In these cases, it is first 
dissolved in water, to separate it from such impurities, 
and then evaporated back again into salt, precisely as 
we are domg now.’ 

“ ‘ VVhai color is the salt rock, papa ? ’ 

“ ‘ When pure, it is white ; but it assumes various 
colors, according to what substance may be found 
mixed with it. It is often yellow, and flesh colored, 
and blue.’ 

“ ‘ How pretty it must be ! ’ exclaimed Harry 
* like precious stones, I declare.’ 

“‘Yes, it is a precious stone, rejoined his brother* 
‘ more precious, I take it, than all the diamonds in 
the world. Is it not, papa ? ’ 

“ ‘ You are quite right,’ I replied. ‘ Salt rock is 
more valuable to the human race than diamonds 
though they, too, have an absolute value, besides 


220 


THE SALT SPRING. 


fheir value as un ornament. There are some iin> 
portant uses in arts and manufactures to which thej^ 
can be applied.’ 

“ ‘ But, papa,’ again inquired Frank, determined 
to know every thing he could about the artcle of 
salt, ‘ I have heard that salt is made of sea water. 
Is it so .? ’ 

“ ‘ Vast quantities of it.’ 

“ ‘ How is it made ? ’ 

‘ There are three w^ays of obtaining it. First, 
in warm climates, where the sun is strong, the sea 
water is collected into shallow pools, and there left 
until it is evaporated by the sun’s rays. The ground 
where these pools are- made must neither be muddy 
nor porous, else the salt would get mixed with the 
mud and sand. Of course, the people who manu- 
facture it in this way take care to choose firm, hard 
ground for the bottom of their pools. There are 
sluices attached to these pools, by which any water 
that will not evaporate is drawn off. Salt is made in 
this manner in many southern countries — in Spain 
and Portugal, in France, and other countries that lie 
around tne Mediterranean ; also in India, China, 
Siam, and the Island of Ceylon. 

“ ‘ The second way of making salt from sea water 
is precisely the same as that I have described — 
except that, instead of these artificial pools^, the 
evaporation takes nlace in broad traces of country 


THE SALT SPRING. 


221 


vvQT whicli the sea has spread in time of high sprini: 
tides. When the sea falls again to its proper level, 
it leaves behind it a quantity of water in these tracts, 
which is evaporated by the sun, and they then be- 
come fields of pure salt. Nothing remains to be 
done but to scrape this salt into heaps and cart it off ; 
and at the next spring tide a fresh influx of sea water 
produces a new crop of salt, and so on. This kind 
is better than that which is made in the artificial 
pools — though neither of them is equal to the salt 
of the mines. They are both known in commerce 
under the name of ‘ bay salt,’ to distinguish them 
from the ‘ rock salt.’ Great natural beds of the last 
Kind described are found in the Cape de Verde 
Islands ; also in Turk’s Island and St. Martin’s, in the 
West Indies, and on Kangaroo Island, near the coast 
of Australia. 

“ ‘ There is still a third plan of making salt out jt 
the sea — that is, by boiling the water, as we are 
doing ; but this makes the worst of all salt, and it is 
far more expensive for any people to manufacture 
salt in this way than to buy it from other countries. 
Indeed, this last plan would never be adopted, were it 
not that some foolish governments force their people 
to pay a heavy duty for importing salt into their coun- 
try, which makes it still cheaper for them, costly as 
it is, to manufacture the article at home.’ 

“ What makes the sea salt, papa ? ’ 

19 * 


222 


THE SALT SPRING. 


“ ‘ That is one of the phenomena about which 
naturalists have a difference of opinion. Some of 
them say there are vast beds of salt at the bottom 
which keep the water always impregnated. I think 
this notion is very childish ; and they who held it 
offer only childish arguments to support it. Others 
assert that the salt water of the ocean is a primitive 
fluid — that it was always as it now is ; which, you 
will perceive, is giving no reason at all, more than 
saying, ‘ It is salt, because it always was salt.’ This 
is an equally irrational theory. Others, again, be- 
lieve that the saltness of the ocean is caused by the 
flowing into it of salt rivers. These last, I believe, 
hold the true opinion ; but, unfortunately, they have 
failed, as far as I know, to answer the objections 
which have been raised against it. Your papa has 
reflected a good deal upon this subject, and believes 
that he can explain away all the difficulties that 
oppose this last theorjL Probably he may take an 
early opportunity of doing so ; but it will require more 
time than he can spare at present.’ 

“ ‘ Is the sea equally salt at all places ? ’ inquired 
the philosopher Frank, after a short pause, during 
which he had been busily reflecting on what had been 
•ust said 

“ ‘ No ; it is more so at the equator than in the 
colder regions around the poles. It is less salt in 
gulfs and inland seas than in the open ocean. Thia 


THE SALT SPRING. 


2^;»3 

[ be.ie/e, I can also explain ; oecause it would suppor 
the thaory regarding the rivers of which we have just 
spoken. The difference of saltness in different parW 
of the sea is, however, very trifling.’ 

“ ‘ How much salt is there in the sea water ’ 

“ ‘ Three and a half per cent, nearly. That is, if 
you boil down one hundred pounds of sea water, it 
will yield you about three pounds and a half of salt.’ 

“‘But are there not many lakes and brine springs 
that contain a far greater proportion than that ? ’ 

“ * Many. There is a large lake lying in this very 
desert, to the north-west of where we are, called the 
‘ Great Salt Lake.’ The waters of that lake are 
more than one third pure salt. There are many 
springs and rivers that contain a greater proportion 
than the ocean itself. It is to be hoped that our own 
little crerk here will yield better than it. But come, 
let us see how the kettle boils. We had almost for- 
gotten it.’ 

“ We approached our kettle, and lifted the lid. 
To our great joy, a scum was floating on the top, 
very much like crystals of ice forming upon melted 
snow. Some of it was skimmed off and applied to 
our lips. Joy ! It was salt^ — the pure muriate of 
sodUy — equal to the best ever shipped from Tuik’s 
Wand.” 


224 


THE BATTLE CF THE 3^AKES. 


CHAPTER XX:V. 

THE BATTLE OF THE SNAKES. 

\ 

‘‘I NEED, not tell you that the announcement was 
received with joyful acclamations, and that one and 
all satisfied themselves by tasting of the salt. It 
had crystallized into small cubes, as salt always does • 
and it was as white as snow, which proved its great 
purity. We had put into the kettle — which was a 
arge camp kettle — about four gallons of water, and 
when it was fully evaporated, we obtained not less 
-han ten j)ints of salt, showing that the water of our 
spring was much more saline than the sea itself. 

“ When our first kettleful was disposed of, we 
refilled it with water, and again hung it over the 
fire. We also hung another vessel beside the kettle 
and that was our frying pan, in which several fine 
steaks of venison, seasoned with the new salt, were 
cooked for our dinners. We were not unmind- 
ful of the thanks which we owed to God for giving ■ 
us this munificent supply of an article so much 
needed by us; and as soon as dinner was over, my 
wife took occasion to bring this subject pointedlv 


THE BATTLE OF THI SNAKES. 


22ii 


forward, and we sat for some time conversing 
upon it. 

“ All at once, we w^ere interrupted by a series of 
ctirious incidents which took place within sight of 
our fire. Our attention was first drawn to them 
by hearing loud screams at a short distance from 
us, which we all recognized as the r^ice of the b.ue 
jay. There is nothing unusual in hearing this bird 
screaming half the day — for it is, perhaps, more 
easily excited than any other feathered creature. 
But, if you have ever noticed, it utters a very peculiar 
cry when there is something unusual in the wind. 
When some much-dreaded enemy is at hand, its note 
becomes extremely shrill and disagreeable. So i* 
was then ; and for that reason it drew my attention, 
as well as that of my companions. 

“ We looked towards the spot whence the cry came. 
We could see the branches of a low tree in motion^ 
and the beautiful sky-blue wings of the bird closing 
and spreading again as it fluttered through them 
We could see nothing else upon the tree, — that is, no 
enemy of the bird, — nor on any of the trees near it. 
On lowering our eyes to the ground, however, we 
nerceived at once what had set the jay to scolding. 
Slowly drawing itself along the earth, gliding through 
the grass and over the dry leaves, without causing 
even the driest of them to rustle, went a hideous 
reptile — a snake. Its yellowish body, dappled witt 


m 


THE BATTLE OF THE SNAKES. 


black blotches, glittered as the sun glanced fiom lla 
lubricated scales, while it rose and fell in wavj 
undulations as it moved. It moved siowly — by ver- 
tical sinuosities, almost in a direct line, with its head 
slightly raised from the grass. At intervals, it 
stopped, elevated its neck, lowered its flat, coffin- 
shaped head, like a feeding swan, gently oscil’jated 
it in a horizontal direction, touched the crisp lea>os 
with its red tongue, — as though it was feeling foi' a 
trails — and then moved on again. In its frequent 
pauses, as it lay stretched along the ground, it ap- 
peared cylindrical, as long as the tallest man, and 
as thick as a man’s fore arm. Its tail ended in a 
horny appendage, about a foot in length, and resem- 
bling a string of large, yellowish, ill-shaped beads, or 
a portion of its own vertebrae stripped of the flesh. 
This peculiarity told us its species. We saw before 
us the dreaded rattlesnake — the crotalus horridus. 

My companions were eager to rush forward and 
at once attack the monster. I restrained them, dogs 
and all. I had heard — who has not ? — of the power 
of fascination which these reptiles possess. I knew 
not whether to believe or disbelieve it. Here was an 
opportunity to test its truth. Would it charm the 
bird ? We should see. Oi>e and all of us remained 
motionless and silent. The snake crawled on. 

“ The bird followed overhead, pitching itself from 
^rfincb to branch, from tree to tree, screaming with 


THE BATTLE OF THE SNAKES. 


m 


open throat. Neither of them noticed us, as we 
weie partially concealed where we sat. 

“ On reaching the foot of a tall magnolia, the 
rattlesnake — after going once round the tree and 
apparently smelling the bark — slowly and carefully 
wound itself into a spiral coil, close in to the trunk 
Its body now presented the appearance of a speckled 
and glittering cable, as they are usually coiled on the 
deck of a ship. The tail, with its horny appendage 
protruded beneath, and the flat head peeped over 
above, resting upon' the uppermost ring of the body. 
The nictitating membrane was drawn over its eyes. 
It appeared to sleep. This I thought strange, as 1 
had heard that the fascinating power of these crea- 
tures lay in the eyes. It soon became evident, how- 
ever, that the bird was not its object ; for the latter 
on seeing that the snake lay still, ceased its chat- 
tering, and flew off* into the woods. 

“ Believing that the interest of the scene was now 
over, I was about raising my rifle to take aim at the 
snake, when a motion on its part convinced me that 
it was not asleep, but watching. Watching for what ? 
A squirrel, perhaps, for this is its favorite prey. I 
looked up into the tree. It had all the appearance 
©f being what is termed a ‘ squirrel tree ’ — that is., 
a tree in which squirrels have their hole and nesU 
Ha ! just as I expected : there was a hole in ihe 
trunk, high up ; and around its orifice ♦he bark wu« 


228 


THE BATILE OF THE SNAKES. 


slightly discolored, evidently by the paws of the 
squirrels passing in and out. Mcreover, on looking 
to the ground again, I perceived that a little beaten 
path, like a rat track, led off through the grass. A 
ridge -like protuberance that projected from the fool 
of the tree — marking the direction of one of its great 
roots — ran right into this path; and, from the dis- 
coloration of the bark above it, it was evident that 
the squirrels usually climbed up or descended along 
this ridge. The rattlesnake was coiled beside it — 
so close, that no animal could pass in that way without 
coming within his reach. I felt certain, then, that 
he was waiting for the descent of the squirrel ; and, 
desirous to see what should happen, I muttered some 
words of caution to my companions, tvho remained 
silent as before. 

“We sat watching the hole, expecting every mo- 
ment to see the squirrel come forth. At length, the 
little rat-shaped head peeped cautiously out ; but in 
this position the animal remained, and did not seem 
inclined to trust itself beyond the mouth of its den. 
It was evidently observing us, — which it could easily 
do, from its elevated position, — and was not intending 
to come down. 

“ We were about giving up all hopes of witnessing 
a ‘scene,’ when uur attention was drawn to a rustling 
among the dead leaves in the woods beyond. 'U 3 
looked in that direction. A squirrel was running 


THE BATrLE OF THE SNAKES. 


229 


k>»vards the tree. It was running at full speed, — 
now along the fallen logs, now through the grass and 
dry leaves, — apparently pursued. It was pursued ; 
for almost at the same instant its pursuer came in 
sight — an animal with a long, slender body, twice 
the length of the squirrel itself, and of a bright, 
yellow color. It was the pine weasel. There were 
not twenty feet between them as they ran, and both 
were doing their best. 

“ I cast a glance at the rattlesnake. He knew 
what was coming. His jaws were extended, — the 
lower one drawn back until it touched his throat, — 
his poisoned fangs were naked and visible ; his ♦ongue 
was protruded forward ; his eyes glanced like dia- 
monds ; and his whole body rose and fell, as with a 
quick respiration. He seemed to have dilated himself 
to twice his natural size. 

“ The squirrel, looking only behind, ran for the 
tree, and, like a streak of light, passed along the 
ridge and upward. We saw the snake launch out 
his head, as the other passed him ; but so quick had 
been the action, that it did not seem tha-t he had even 
touched it. 

“ ‘ Good ! ’ thought we, as we saw the squirrel sweep 
\rp the trunk, and fancied that it was safe. Before 
it had reached the first fork, however, we observed 
that it climbed more slowly — then faltered — then 
stopped altogether. Its hind feet slipped from the 
20 


230 


THE Battle of the snakes. 


bark ; its body oscillated a moment, hanging by tne 
fore claws, and then dropped heavily back into the 
very jaw.^ of ,he serpent ! 

“ The weasel, on seeing the snake, had suddenly 
stopped a few feet from it, and now ran around, 
doubling its long, worm-like body, and occasionally 
standing erect — all the while spitting and snailing, 
like an angry cat. It was evidently furious at being 
robbed of its prey ; and we thought for a while it was 
going to give battle to the snake. The latter had re- 
coiled himself on seeing this enemy, and lay with 
open jaws, awaiting the attack. The body of the 
squirrel, now' quite dead, was close up to his coil, so 
that the other could not snatch it without coming 
within reach of his dangerous fangs. 

“ On seeing this, and evidently afraid to encounter 
such a terrible antagonist, the weasel, after a while 
ceased its hostile demonstrations ; and, turning to one 
side, bounded off into the woods. 

‘‘ The reptile now leisurely uncoiled the upper half 
of his body, and, stretching out his neck towards the 
squirrel, prepared to swallow it. He drew the latter 
out to its full length along the ground, so that its head 
lay towards him. This he purposed to swallow first, 
— in order to take the animal ‘ with the grain,’ — - 
and he now commenced- lubricating it with the saliva 
that ran from his forked tongue. 

“ While we eat watching this curious operation 


THE BATTLE OF THE SNAi ES. 


231 


our attention was attracted to a movement m the 
leaves above the spot where the snake lay. DirecLy 
over him, at a height of twenty or more feet, a huge 
liana., of the trumpet species, stretched across from 
tree to tree. It was full as thick as a man’s arm, and 
covered with green leaves, and large, crimson, cune- 
iform blossoms, such as belonged to itself. There 
were other blossoms mingling with these, for still 
other parasites — smaller ones — were twined around 
it, and we could distinguish the beautiful, starlike 
flowers of the cypress vine. Among these, an object 
was in motion, — a living object, a body, — the body 
of a great snake, nearly as thick as the liana itself. 

“ Another rattlesnake ! No ; the rattlesnake is 
not a tree climber — it could not be that. Besides, 
the color of the one upon the vine was entirely dif- 
ferent. It was of a uniform black all over — smooth 
and glittering. It was the black snake, then — the 
‘constrictor’ of the north. 

“ When we first noticed it, it was wound upon the 
liana in sp’ral rings, like the worm of a gigantic screw. 
We saw mat it was slowly gliding downward — for 
the vine tended diagonally from tree to tree, and its 
lowest end impinged upon the trunk of the magnolia, 
about twenty feet from the ground. 

“ On reaching this point, the snake gradually drew 
Its rings closer together, until they appeared to touch 
each ether, lapping the liana. It then commence*/ 


232 


^HE BATTLE OF THE SJVAkES 


unwinding itself by the head, which was slowly ciiclert 
backward around the vine — still, however, creasing 
closely along it. After a sufficient number of evolu 
lions, the rings had completely disappeared, — with 
the exception of one or two near the tail, — and the 
reptile lay doubled along the liana. These manceu* 
vres it had executed silently and with great caution ; 
and it now seemed to pause, and survey what waa 
going on below. 

“ During all this while, the rattlesnake had beer. 
Dusily engaged with the squirrel, and thought of 
nothing else. After licking the latter to his satisfac* 
tion, he extended his purple jaws, drew in the head 
of his victim, and, stretching his long body to its full 
extent, proceeded to swallow it, tail and all. In a 
few seconds, the head and shoulders of the squirrel 
had disappeared. 

“ But the glutton was suddenly interrupted in his 
meal , for, at this moment, we observed the black 
snake gradually lower himself from the liana, until 
nothing remained upon the tro° but a single loop of 
his prehensile tail ; and his long bod}-, stretching 
downward, hung directly over the other. 

“ ' Surely,’ thought we, ‘ he is not going to en- 
counter the rattlesnake — the most terrible of all rep- 
tiles.’ But the constrictor understood one chapter of 
herpetology better than we — for the next moment we 
saw him drop to the ground ; and, almost as quick ai 


THE BATTLE OF THE SNAKES. 232 

cnought, he appeared, lapped in sable folds around the 
speckled body of the * crotalus ! ’ 

“ It was a singular sight to see these two creatures 
writhing and wriggling over the grass ; and it was 
some time before we could tfill how they battled with 
each other. There was no great difference bet'^’cen 
them, in point of size. The black snake was longer, 
— by a foot or so, — but much more slender in the 
body than his antagonist. He possessed, however 
an advantage that soon made itself apparent — his 
activity, which was ten times that of the rattlesnake. 
We saw that he could easily evolve or wind himself 
at pleasure around the body of the latter, each time 
compressing him with those muscular powers which 
have entitled him to his name — ‘ constrictor.’ At 
each fresh embrace, the body of the ‘ crotalus ’ ap- 
peared to writhe and contract under the crushing 
influence of his sable adversary. 

“ The rattlesnake had but one weapon which he 
fould have employed with effect — his fangs. These 
were already locked in the body of the squirrel, and 
he could not use them upon his adversary. He 
could not get rid of that hairy morsel, that, like a 
barbed arrow, now stuck in his throat. We coulo 
Bee that the squirrel still remained there, for, aa 
the two reptiles struggled over the grass, its bushy 
tail was seen waving in the midst of their torluoua 
contest. 

20 * 0 


/ 


5234 THE BATTLE OF THE SNAKES. 

“ At length the battle began to flag. The motions 
of bofli combatants waxed slower and slower. We 
could "now see how they fought. We could see — ■ 
strange it appeared to us — that, instead of battling 
head to head, — face to face, — the fangs of the ‘con- 
strictor’ were buried in the rattles of the ‘crotalus!’ 
Stranger still, the tail of the former rose and fell with 
a muscular and powerful impetus whipping the latter 
to death ! 

“ The contest was soon ended. The rattlesnake 
Jay stretched at full length, evidently dead ; while the 
black constrictor still continued to hug the speckled 
body, as though it was an object to be loved. This 
lasted for a moment or so ; and then, slowly unwind- 
ing itself, the conqueror turned round, crept through 
the grass, and proceeded to appropriate the prey. 
The ‘ scene ’ was over, and we all leaped to our feet 
to enact the finale. 

“ I should have spared the constrictor, after the 
good service he had done in destroying the rattle* 
snake ; but Cudjo, who hated all sorts of creeping 
things was ahead of me ; and, before I could come 
Jip I oeheld the victor suspended upon his spear ! ’ 


THB niEB. 


236 


CHAPTER XXV 

THE SUGAR TREE. 

“ In the evening, we returned to our house, carrying 
with us, on the back of Pompo, a good-sized bag of 
Balt. We had evaporated enough to cure our veni- 
son, and to last us for several weeks to come. When 
it should be used up, we knev/ where to go for more. 
There was no danger of the spring going dry. We 
had noticed, previous to the discovery of the salt 
creek, that the water of the lake was perceptibly 
brackish ; but we had never reflected on the cause. 
Doubtless, this fact had prevented us from yearning 
— as we might otherwise have done — for the valua- 
ble substance we had now obtained in such plenty. 

“ That night, after we had finished eating our 
suppers, Harry, who had been all the day burning 
witli curiosity to know what was the important dis- 
covery hinted at by his mother, now reminded her 
of her promise. 

“ ‘ Come, now, mamma ! ’ said he, in a challenging 
tone, ‘what is it.? What have you found equal to 
that fine bag of salt, which you will all please to 
remember is the fruit of my discovery?’ 


236 


THE SUGAR TREE. 


“ ‘ But did I promise to tell you to-night ? I said 
ivhen we should be in low spirits, did I not? We 
are all happy now.’ 

“ ‘ O, you said to-night,’ replied Harry. ‘ Be« 
sides,’ added he, trying to look grave, ‘ I am in low 
spirits. I have been so all day — ever since — eveJ 
since — ’ 

“ ‘ Ever since you let the kettle against my shins, 
and went skunk hunting,’ interrupted Frank, with a 
laugh, in which Cudjo joined heartily. 

‘‘ ‘ This allusion to Harry’s morning adventure, 
which had formed the standing joke of the day, was 
not at all relished by him ; and the look of mock 
gravity which he had assumed now became real. 
His mother — with whom Harry was a favorite — 
noticed that he was vexed, and that now was the very 
time to apply the remedy. She soon, therefore, 
changed the current of his thoughts, by proposing 
to disclose the secret she had promised. 

“ ‘ Well, then,’ said she, ‘ my discovery is this : 
While we were going up the valley this morning, I 
■aw at some distance over the wo(,ds the top leave* 
of a very beautiful and very valuable tree.’ 

A tree I ’ cried Harry ; ‘ what ! a cocoa rut ? ’ 

“ ‘ No.’ 

“‘A bread fruit, may be ? ’ 

“‘No.’ 

‘ Orange, ^hen ? ’ 


THE SUGAR TREE. 2.T 

‘ No, Harry,’ replied h's mother. ‘ Y'ou musi 
know we are not in that latitude. We are too fai 
north for either bread fruits, orange trees, or cocoa- 
nut palms.’ 

“ ‘ Ah ! ’ exclaimed Harry, with a sigh, ‘ those 
hree are the only trees I care a fig for.’ 

‘ How, now, if it were a fig tree, since you speak 
of figs ? ’ 

“ ‘ O, very well,” replied Harry ; ‘ figs will do 
but I would rather it had been one of the others.’ 

“ ‘ But it is not even a fig tree.’ 

“ ‘ O, it is not. What then, mamma ? 

“ ‘ That of which I speak is a tree of the temper^ 
ate zone ; and, in fact, grows to greatest perfection 
in the coldest parts of it. Have you noticed any tall, 
straight trees, with thick foliage of a bright, red 
color ? ’ 

^ ‘ Yes, mamma,’ answered Frank ; ‘ I have. 1 
know a part of the valley where there are many of 
them — some of them nearly crimson, while others 
are orange colored.’ 

“ ‘ That is the tree of which I speak. The leaves 
are now of those colors because it is autumn. Ear- 
lier in the season they were of a bright green above 
and whitish, or, as it is termed, glaucous, on the 
under surface.’ 

“ ‘ O, * said Harry, seemingly disappointed with 


THE SUGAR *RtE. 


2SS 

this information. ‘ I have noticed them, too. They 
• are very beautiful trees, it is true ; but then — ’ 

“ ‘ Then, what ? ’ 

“ ‘ They are of no use to us — such big trees as 
tney are. There is no fruit upon them, for I looked 
carefully ; and what then ? We do not need their 
timber, Pm sure. We have as good timber as we 
want in these tulip trees.’ 

“‘Come, Master Hal — not so fast, if you please. 
There are many parts of a tree which may serve for 
valuable uses besides its fruit, or its timber either.’ 

“ ‘ What ! the leaves ? ’ inquired the impatient 
Harry. ‘ What use can we make of leaves ? ’ 

“ ‘ Come, master,’ said Frank, in an improving 
tone; ‘the leaves of some trees are very valuable. 
What think you of the tea plant, for instance } ’ 

“ Harry felt rebuked, and remained silent. 

‘ We can make no use of the leaves of this tree,’ 
con.inued his mother ; ‘ at least, none that I am 
aware of.’ 

“ ‘ The bark, then ? ’ interrogated Harry. 

‘i ‘ No ; not the bark either.’ 

“ ‘ The roots .? ’ • 

“ I know of no peculiar virtue in its roots more 
♦har. those of the oak, ash, or any other large timber 
trees.’ 

“ ‘ What then, mamma } It has no flowers, I am 


THE SdGAR TREE 


239 


sure ; nor fruit neither, except little seeds, with wings 
upon them like a spider fly.’ 

“ ‘ Those are its fruit.’ 

“ ' O > What use could we make of them } 1 have 

seen just the same, or very like them, growing on the 
common sycamore tree.’ 

“ ‘ You are right there ; for the common sycamore, 
as yc 1 call it, is a tree of the same family. But 1 ^ 
did not say we could make any use of these winged 
seeds. Can you think of nothing else that belongs to 
every tree ? ’ 

“ ‘ Nothing ! Let me see ; yes — yes — the sap ? 

“ ‘ Ha ! the sap ! ’ repeated his mother, with a pecu 
/ar emphasis. 

“ ‘ What, mother ! ’ cried Frank ; ‘ a maple ? ’ 

“ ‘ Yes ! a sugar maple ! Now, Master Hal ! * 

“ These words produced a startling effect upon the 
whole company. Frank and his brother had both 
heard of the famous sugar maple, though neither of 
them had ever seen it. The younger members, Mary 
and Luisa, knew nothing about maples, but the word 
‘sugar’ was more familiar to them; and that, in con- 
nection with the joyous looks of the others, at once 
produced visions of sweetmeats and candy. Cudjo, 
too, who had never met with the sugar maple, as it 
did not grow in that part where Cudjo was himself 
indigeno’is, nevertheless liked sugar as well as any 
of them, and greeted the announcement with delight 


240 


THE SUGAR TREE. 


Nothing wos heard for some moments but cries of joj 
mingled with the words ‘sugar’ and ‘ sugai .maple 
Greater is the longing which children, or even men 
experience for that which is difficult to obtain ; and 
greater is the delight that is felt upon the prospect of 
obtaining it. ' , 

“ After the transport of our little circle had in 
some degree subsided, Mary proceeded' to explain .o 
them the nature of this remarkable tree. 

“ ‘The sugar maple,’ said she, ‘ you may easily dis- 
tinguish from other trees, by its light-colored bark, 
and palmate, five-lobed leaves, which, in summer, a^e 
of a bright, green color, but in autumn change, as you 
see, to crimson or orange. It somewhat resembles 
the English oak in its trunk, branches, and the great 
mass of foliage which it carries. Its wood is very 
heavy, and is often used in the manufacture of beau- 
tiful articles of furniture, as well as for ships, mills, 
and other mechanical purposes. But the principal 
value of this tree is found in its sap ; and by the 
mysterious but always wise distribution of nature, it 
seems to have been given to the people of the tem- 
perate and colder latitudes, in place of the sugar 
cane, which, as you know, flourishes only in hot and 
tropical countries. 

“ ‘ Each maple,’ continued my wife, ‘ will yield 
annually from three to four pounds of excellent 
sugar but to do this, it should be tappei early in 


THE SUGAR TREE. 


241 


ihe spring, for the sap does not run in the summer oi 
winter. It runs, however, in the autumn, though not 
so freely as in spring ; but we must hope that we shall 
be able to draw as much from ours as will supply ua 
until spring comes round again.’ 

“ ‘ But, mamma,’ broke in the inqdlsitive Harry, 
‘ when and how shall we get the sap ? ’ 

‘ I suppose, Harry, you wish for separate answers 
to these two questions which you have put so closely 
together. Well, then, our best time to draw it will 
be after the very first frost which makes its appear- 
ance. It has been found that the sap runs best 
when the nights are clear and cold, and the days dry 
and warm. 

“ ‘ The manner of extracting the sap, and the pro 
cess of making the sugar, are both very simple. In 
the first place, we must make a great many little 
troughs — one for every tree we intend to tap. These 
are used to .supply the place of vessels, which of 
course we have not got. The farmers of the United 
States, who make maple sugar, also use these troughs 
— as they will often have several hundred trees run- 
ning at the same time, and it would be rather expen- 
sive for a backwoodsman to supply himself with so 
many vessels from either the potter, the tinman, or 
the cooper. But the troughs, which aie easily made 
answer the purpose just as well ; and Cudjo here Li 
able to make them for us. 

21 


Y 


?42 


THE SUGAR TREE. 


“ ‘ After the troughs, nothing more is needed 
except a few joints of the cane which grows all 
around us‘ An auger hole must be bored in each of 
the trees, about three feet from the ground. Into 
each of these holes a single tube of cane must be 
inserted, simply to form a spout that may conduct 
the ruaning sap into the troughs below. We shall 
then have nothing further to do, but wait wnile the 
sap gathers in the troughs, collect it into our kettle, 
and boil it over the fire in the same manner as we 
did the salt. 

“ ‘ Now, Master Harry,’ concluded my wife, ‘ be 
patient. Hope for an early frost, and you shall have 
a practical illustration of all these things.’ 

“ Harry had not long to wait. Upon the third 
night after, a slight hoarfrost covered ihe ground, 
and the day following was bright and warm. This 
was the very time to tap the maples, and so we set 
about it. 

“ Cudjo had already prepared the troughs — more 
than twenty of them in all. These he made in 
the usual manner. He cut the trunks of several 
tulip trees— -those that were about twelve inches in 
diameter — into logs of three feet each. These logs 
he split into two equal parts, and hollowed out the 
split sides with his chisel and mallet — thus forming 
a rude vessel, but quite good enough for the purpose 
of holding the sap. The cane tubes were also ready 


THE SUGAR TREE. 


243 


and proceed i.ig to the trees, — all of us togeth© , — we 
bored a hole in each with our auger, fitted in the cane 
ioincs, and propped the troughs underneath. In a 
short time, the crystal liquid began to drip from the 
end of the spouts, and then it ran faster and faster, 
unti. a small, clear stream fell into the troughs. The 
first that issued forth we caught in our cups, as the 
sugar water is most delicious to drink ; and it seemed 
as if our little people, particularly Mary and Luisa, 
would never say ‘ enough.’ Harry, too, was as fond 
of it as they ; and was heard to declare that the 
sugar maple was the finest tree of the forest, and 
quite a match for either bread fruits, oranges, or 
cocoa palms. We had brought the large kettle ; and 
a fire was soon kindled, and a crane erected — just 
as we had done when making our salt. In a few 
hours the kettle was filled with sap, and boiling over 
the fire. 

“ Each of us had now our separate duty to perform 
Cudjo, with his bucket, went from tree to tree, col- 
lecting the sap as it gathered in the troughs, while 
Mary and I kept u]j the fire, and looked to the 
ladling. When a kettle of the water was sufficiently 
boiled down, it was necessary to pour it out into small 
vessels, that the sugar might crystallize by cooling. 
For this purpose we used all our plates, dishes, and 
cups. As soon as it cooled it became hard as a brick, 
and of a veiy dark color. It was then removed from 


244 


THE SUGiJE TREE. 


the stna.1 vessels, and a fresh quantity poured into 
them. That part of the sap which would not crystal- 
lize was carefully strained from the vessels, and 
became molasses; and these, let me tell you, are 
much finer than the molasses that are made from the 
sugar cane — much richer in color, and pleasanter to 
the palate. 

“ Frank and Harry had their part to perform — 
which was to walk about, rifle in hand, and guard the 
troughs. This was an important matter, for it is a 
singular fact that wolves, raccoons, badgers, opos- 
sums, and in short every animal, wild or tame, will 
drink the sap of the sugar maple, and are so fond of 
it that they will risk their lives to get at it. As 
the trees we had opened stood at a considerable dis- 
tance from each other, our two little sentries were 
kept constantly relieving one another upon their rounds. 

“The sap continued to run for several days ; and, 
of course, we were kept busy during all that time. 
Had it been in the spring time, we should have been 
employed for weeks at it, as it then runs longer and 
more freely. We were favored with a smart frost 
every night, which was a fortunate circumstance, aa 
the water did not gather during the cold hours of the 
night — otherwise we should have found it impossible 
lo guard the wdld animals from our troughs. 

All these nights we slept by the fire, where wv 
had made a regular camp, as is usual in the back 










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THE SUGAR IREI. 


2 


rt^oods of America. We only went to the house when 
it was necessary to get some article that was needed 
We had put up a little tent, made out of our old wagon 
tilt, to cover us ; and the place we called by the name 
which is in use among the backwoods’ farmers — that 
IS to say, a ‘ sugar camp.’ We found this out-of-door 
life very exciting and agreeable, camping thus in 
the thick, shady woods, with the great, majestic trees 
towering around us; listening at times to the light 
breeze, as it rustled their golden leaves ; or lulled into 
a pleasing tranquillity by the songs of a thousand 
birds. At night, however, the music was not so sweet 
lO our ears. Then we heard the barking of wolves, 
the mournful ‘ coo-whoo-a ’ of the great horned owl, 
and the still more terrifying scream of the cougar. 
But we kept up a crackling, blazing fire all the night, 
and we knew that this would keep these fierce crea- 
tures at bay. 

“ At length our work was done. The sugar water 
flowed each hour more slowly, and then ceased alto- 
gether ; and we broke up our camp. When we had 
returned to our house, and collected our many-shaped 
;oaves, — for they were of all forms, according to the 
vessels, --we found that all together weighed nearly 
a hundred pounds! This would be enough for all 
our wants — at least, until the spring, when we pur- 
posed returning again to our grand storehouse among 
sugar maples.” 

21 * 


THE STUMP TREE AND THE BREAD PIVS. 


f 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE STUMP TREE AND THE BREAD PINE. 

“ That evening, as we sat around the supper table, 
my wife announced that the last grain of our coffee 
was in the pot. This was sad news to all of us. Of 
the little luxuries that we had brought with us from 
St. Louis, our coffee had held out longest ; and a cup 
of this aromatic beverage had often cheered us during 
our toilsome journey across the prairie desert. Often 
too, since our arrival in the valley, had it given q 
relish to our homely meal. 

“ ‘ Well, then,’ said I, by way of reply to the an- 
nouncement, ‘ we must learn to do without it. We 
have now the materials for making soup ; what care 
we for coffee } How many poor people would be 
glad to be surrounded with luxuries as we are ! Here 
we have venison of different kinds : we can have 
bea-ers’ tails whenever we want them. There are 
fish :oo, in the lake and stream ; there are hare? 
and squirrels, which we shall trap in abundance, 
ly and by ; and, in addition to all, we shall dine 
^ten upo'i ruffed grouse and roast turkey. I won 


THE 3TUMP TREE A.ND THE BREAL PINE. 24^ 


der, with all these luxuries around us, who is not 
content > ’ 

“ ‘ But, papa,’ said Harry, taking up the disccu.rse 
‘ in Virginia, I have often seen our black folks make 
coffee out of Indian com. It is not bad, I assure 
you. I have drank it there, and thought it very good 
Have not you, Cudjo .? ’ 

“ ‘ Dat berry coffee dis chile hah drunk Mass^ 
Harry.’ 

“ ‘ Now, papa ? ’ 

“ ‘ Well, Hai.y, what of it ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why should we not use that — the Indian corn, 
I mean — for coffee ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why, Harry,’ said I, ‘ you surely do not reflect 
upon what you are talking about. We have a far 
worse want than coffee, and that is this very Indian 
corn to make bread of. Could I only get a supply 
of that, I should think very little about coffee or any 
other beverage. Unfortunately, there is not a grain 
of corn within many a hundred miles of where we 
are now sitting.’ 

“ ‘ But there is, papa ; I know where there is at 
least a quart of it ; and within less than a hundred 
yards of us, too.’ 

“ ‘ Come,’ said I, ‘ my boy, you have mistaken some 
useless seed for corn. No corn grows in this valley, 
am certain.’ 

“ ‘ It did not grow in this alley. It has travelled 


24S THE STTIMF TREE AND TilE BREAD PINE. 

all the way from St. Louis along with us. It is now 
in the wagon.’ 

‘ What ! corn in the wagon ? ’ I exclaimed, starting 
ip with such vehemence as to frighten my children 
Arc you sure of that, Harry ? ’ 

“ ‘ I saw it this very morning, in one of the old 
bags,’ replied he. 

“ ‘ Come ! ’ cried I ; ‘ get a torch, Cudjo. To the 
wagon ! to the wagon ! ’ 

“ In a short time we nau reached the wagon, which 
stood close to the door. With a beating heart, I 
climbed into it. There was an old, worn-out buffalo 
robe, with the harness of the ox, lying upon the 
bottom. I flung these aside, and, underneath, I saw a 
coarse gunny bag, such as are used in the Western 
States for holding Indian corn. I knew that it was 
one of those we had brought with us from St. Louis, 
containing corn for our horse and oxen ; but I was 
under the impression that I had emptied out the 
l8.st of it long before. I took the bag up, and, to my 
inexpressible delight, found that it still contained a 
■small quantity of the precious grain : besides, there 
was still more of it, that had been spilled from time 
lo time, and had got into the corners and cracks of 
the wagon. These we collected carefully, and put 
with the rest — not leaving a single grain that we 
did not scrape out from the cracks. Then, carrying 
my bag into the house, I turned out its contents upon 


fFE STUMP TREE i ND THE BREAD PINE. 249 


he table. To our great joy, there was, as Harry 
nad affirmed, nearly a quart of the golden gram. 

“ ‘ Now,’ said I, * we shall have bread.’ 

“ This was a glad sight to my wife. During tae 
preceding days, we had frequently talked upon this 
subject, — the want of bread, — which is one of our 
first necessities. We lived in hope that we should 
find some species of cereal in the valley that would 
supply us with a substitute for bread ; but, up to that 
time, nothing of the kind had appeared. We had 
gathered the mast from the beach tree, and roasted it , 
we had collected quantities of locust pods and acorns ; 
we had also eaten the pulpy fruit of the pawpaw ; but 
all these together we found to be but poor apologies for 
real bread. This, then, was a discovery of far greater 
importance to us than either the salt or the sugar. 

“ The winter, in the latitude of our valley, would 
be a short one. We could then plant the corn — 
there was enough of it to plant a whole acre. It 
would come to maturity in six or eight weeks ; and 
we knew that in such a climate we could easily raise 
two crops in the year — so that, before the next win* 
ter came round, we should have enough and to spare. 

“ While we stood by the table, talking over these 
pleasant prospects, one of the boys — Frank it was — 
suddenly shouted out, ‘ Wheat ! wheat ! ’ 

“ I looked down, to ascertain what he meant. He 
had been turning over the yellow seeds of the maize 


250 THE STUMP TREE AND IHE BREAD PINB. 

and, among them, had discovered several grabs of 
wheat. No doubt there had been wheat in the bag 
oefore the corn had been put into it ; and this was 
soon confirmed, as, on carefully searching the bag, 
we found several of the precious prickles still clinging 
oetween the seams. After separating the one species 
from the other with great carefulness, — for we did 
not wish to lose a single seed, — we found that our 
grains of wheat counted exactly one hundred. This, 
to be sure, was a small quantity to go a farming with * 
but we remembered the old saying, ‘ Great oaks grow 
from little acorns,’ and we knew the importance of 
these small, gray seeds. In a couple of years, we 
should have large crops of wheat. 

“ ‘ You see,’ said I, addressing my little family, 
‘ how kind Providence has been to us. Here, in the 
middle of the desert, has he furnished us with all the 
necessaries of life ; and now, with a little patience, 
we may promise ourselves many of its luxuries — for 
what can mamma not make out of flour and sugar.?’ 

O, every thing!’ cried Frank, who had grown 
enthusiastic at the prospect of farming, for he was 
fond of agricultural pursuits ; ‘ we can have venison 
;>jAsties with our flour.’ 

And fruit pies,’ added Harry ; ‘ there are plenty 
of fruits. I have found wild plums, and cherries, and 
mulberries as long as rny finger, and whortleberries, 
k)o W'hat delicious puddings we can make ! ’ 


THE STUMP TREE' AND THE BREAD PINE. 251 


‘ Yes,’ said I ; ‘ now shall we care for coffee ? ’ 

‘ ‘ No, no ! ’ cried Frank and Harry in a breath. 

“ ‘ Then you shall have it,’ said their mother with 
A smile of peculiar meaning. 

“ ^ What ! mother ? ’ exclaimed Harry ; ‘ another 
tree? ’ 

“ ‘ Yes, indeed, another.’ 

“ ‘ Not a coffee plant ? ’ 

“ ‘ No ; but a coffee tree.’ 

“ * A coffee tree ! Why I thought, mamma, that they 
never grew, except in the hottest parts of the tropics.’ 

“ ‘ That is true enough of the small tree or shrub 
which produces the coffee you have been accustomed 
to drink ; but not far from us there is a very large 
tree, whose seed will give us a very palatable substi- 
tute. Here is a specimen of it.’ 

“ So saying, she threw down upon the table a large 
brown pod, — of at least twelve inches in length by 
two in breadth, — exactly the shape of a crescent or 
young moon. It reminded us of the pods of the 
locust, though differing considerably in shape. Like 
them, too, when opened, — which was forthwith done, 
— it was seen to contain a pulpy substance, in which 
several large, gray-colored seeds were embedded. 
These seeds, she informed us, when parched, ground, 
and boiled, after the manner of the true coffee, 
would afford us a beverage nearly as good, and quite 
as wholesome. 


*252 THE SIUMP TREE AND THE BREAD PINE. 

“ ‘ The tree,’ said she, ‘ from which I have plucke 
this pod, grows in most parts of America. You ma} 
have observed it here ? ’ 

“ ‘ I have,’ interrupted Harry. ‘ Now that mam 
ma has shown us the use of the maples, I have been 
looking particularly at all the trees; since I find 
that some of them that appeared scarce worthy of 
notice, may, after all, be very interesting.’ 

“ ‘ I have observed the tree,’ added Frank, who 
was something of a botanist as well as his mother. 

I noticed that its bark is very rough, dropping off 
here and there in large, curling scales. The branches, 
too, are very odd looking; they have blunt, stumpy 
ends, that give the tree a clumsy appearance. Is it 
not so, mamma ? ’ 

“ ‘ Precisely as you say. Hence its name of “ chi- 
cot ” among the Canadian French, and “ stump tree ” 
in the United States. Its botanical name is gym- 
nocladus, which means, “ with naked branches ; ” for 
during the winter, as you shall find, it will present a 
very naked appearance. It is also known as the 
“ Kentucky coffee tree,” because the early pioneers 
and settlers of that country, when they were unable 
to obtain the true coffee, made use of its seeds, as 
w) intend doing.’ 

“ ‘ O ! ’ cried Harry ; ‘ only think of it — sugar, 
and coffee, and salt, and plenty of meat, and roas' 
turkey — every thing but bread. If we onl) had 


IflE STUAIP TREE AND TIIE BREAD I INE. 253 


Bread ! Would our corn not grow if we planted 
now, papa ? ’ 

“ ‘ No ; the frost would kill the yourg plants. 
We must have patience until spring.’ 

“ ‘ It is a long time till spring,’ said Hariy, with 
rather a discontented air ; ‘ and then we must wait 
much longer while the corn is growing. It is a very 
long time to wait.’ 

“ ‘ Come, Master Hal,’ rejoined his mother, ‘ I fear 
you are one of those who cannot be satisfied, no 
matter how many blessings are heaped upon them. 
Remember how many are worse off than yourself — 
how many are without bread, even where it is plen- 
tiest. No doubt, at this moment, many a hungry boy 
in the streets , of wealthy London is standing by the 
baker’s window, and gazing at the crisp loaves, with 
no more chance to eat one of them than you have. 
He is worse off than you. You have other food, — 
plenty of it, — he has none ; and, moreover, his 
hunger is rendered more acute and painful by the 
sight of the tempting food — separated from his hand 
only by a pane of glass. Poor boy ! that pane ol 
glass is to him a wall of adamant. Think upon this, 
my son, and learn to be contented.’ 

“ ‘ Indeed, I am so, mamma,’ replied Harry, with 
a look of contrition. ‘ I did not mean to complain. 
1 was only thinking how nice it would be to have 
bread, now that we ha^ e got both sugar and coffee. 


'J54 THE STUMP TREE AND THE BREAD PINE. 

“ ‘ Ah ! now, ray good Harry,’ said his mother 
• since I find you in the proper spirit, I think I must 
tell you about another curious and useful tree, of 
which, perhaps, you have not heard.’ 

“ ‘ A bread fruit now, I’m sure ? No, it cannot oe 
that ; for I have heard of the bread fruit.’ 

“ ‘ Still, it might very appropriately be called a 
bread fruit, since, during the long winter months, i 
furnishes bread to many tribes of Indians ; in^ieed, 
not bread alone, but subsistence — as it is the only 
food these improvident people have.’ 

“ ‘ I am sure I have never heard of that tr€?e.’ 

“ ‘ Well, I imagine not, as it is not long since it was 
discovered and described by botanists ; and even 
now it is but imperfectly known to them. It is a 
pine.’ 

“ ‘ What ! a pine with fruit ? ’ 

“ ‘ Did you ever see a pine without it — that is, in 
the proper season ? ’ 

“ ‘ Then you call those cone-shaped things fruit ? ' 

“ ‘ Certainly ; what else should they be } ’ 

“ ‘ O, I thought those were the seed.’ 

“‘So are they, and the fruit as well. In botany, 
we have no such word as fruit. What you call fruit 
is in some trees the seed. In al species of nuts, for 
instance, the fruit and the seed are one and the same 
thing — that is to say, the kernel of the nut is both 
^ruit and seed. So it is with leguminous plants, as 


TR& STUMP TREE AND THE BREAD PINE. 255 


beans and peas. In other trees, however, the fruit 
is a substance covering and enclosing the seed, as 
the pulp of the apple, the pear, and the orange. 
Now, with regard to the pines, they are nut-bearing 
trees, and their seed is at the same time thnir 
fruit.* 

“ ‘ But, mamma, you do not mean that any one 
could eat those rough things that grow upon pine 
trees ? ’ 

“ ‘ Those rough things you speak of are the cc nes. 
They are only the sheaths that protect the seeds 
during a certain period of the year. They open as 
nuts do, and then you will find a kernel inside, which 
is the true fruit.’ 

“ ‘ But I have tasted that, too ; it is quite bitter.’ 

“ ‘ You have tasted that of the common pine, and 
you say true of it; but there are many species of 
pine trees, whose seeds are not only edible, but 
pleasant to the taste, and wholesome as an article 
of food.’ 

“ ‘ What pines, mamma ? ’ 

“ ‘ Several species are known. Several new ones 
have been discovered of late years, and in this very 
desen. Perhaps in no part of the world is found a 
greater variety of these valuable trees than in the 
mountainous countries which border upon and lie 
within the Great American Desert, There is one 
species in California, called “Colorado” jy the Span 


256 THE STUMP TREE AND THE BREAD PINE. 

iarcfe — wliich means rtd^ because their wood, when 
sawed up, is of a reddish color. Trees of this kind 
are the largest in the world ; they are often over three 
h iindred feet in height ! Only think of a tree three 
hundred feet high, when the tallest we saw in the 
Mississippi Valley was not much over half that. Yet 
there are whole forests of these upon the mountains 
of the Sierra Nevada. There is another species 
almost as large on these same mountains. It has 
been called by botanists pinm Lambertiana. It is 
more remarkable, however, for the size of its cones, 
which are of the enormous length of eighteen inches 
— a foot and a half! Fancy how singular a sight 
it must be — one of these gigantic trees, with ccnes 
hanging from its branches larger than sugar loaves ! ’ 
“ ‘ O, beautiful indeed ! ’ exclaimed Frank and 
Harry at the same time. 

“ •’ But, mamma,’ added FranK, ‘ are these the 
sort that are eaten by the Indians } ’ 

“ ‘ Their seeds are also fit to eat, and in times of 
great distress the Indians and others resort to them 
for food ; but it is not of them I intended to speak. 
It is of another kind very distinct from either, and 
yet growing in the same region. It is a small tree, 
rarely seen of more than thirty or forty feet in height 
and with leaves or needles of a much lighter green 
than the generality of pines. Its cones are not 
arger than those of the common sort ; but the seed 


THfi STUMP TREE AND T^IE BREAD FINE. 257 

©I kernel is oily, like the American walnut, and quite 
Es agreeable in flavor. They cannot be otherwise 
than nutritious, since, as I have said, they form the 
whole subsistence of many people for mortths In the 
year. They can be eaten raw; but the Indians 
usually roast them. When roasted or parched, and 
then ground in a mill, or broken in a mortar, tliey 
make a species of meal, which, though coarse in 
appearance, can be baked into sweet and wholesome 
bread. This tree is called by the Mexicans “ pihon,’ 
and also by travellers the “nut pine.” The only 
botanist who has fairly ^escribed it has given it the 
name of pinus monophyllus. Perhaps as good a 
name as any, and certainly the most appropriate, — 
1 mean, for its popular name, — would be the “ bread 
pine.”’ 

“ ‘ But, mamma, does this tree grow in our valley ? 
We have not seen it.’ 

“ ‘ Not in the valley, I think ; but I have hopes 
that we may find it on the mountain. The day we 
came around the latter, I thought I saw a strange 
species of pine growing up in the ravines. It might 
be this very one ; and I am the more inclined to 
think so, as I have heard that it grows on the Rock} 
Mountains, — within the latitudes of New Mexico, — 
and also on all the sierras that lie between them and 
ihs Pacific. I see no reason whv we should not find 
22 * 


w 


258 THE STUMP TREE AND THE BREAD PINE. 

it upon our mountain, which is, nd doubt, a sort of 
outlying peak of the Rocky Mountains themselves.’ 

“ ‘ O, then,’ said Harry, ‘ shall we not go up to the 
mountain, and see about it? An excursion to the 
mountain would be so very pleasant. Don’t you 
think so, papa ? ’ 

“ ‘ I do, indeed,’ I replied ; ‘ and ^s soon as we 
can make a cart for Pompo, so as to be able to take 
mamma and the children along with us, we shall go 
there.’ 

“ This proposal was hailed with delight, as all 
wished very much to visit the beautiful mountain that 
rose so majestically above us. It was settled, then, 
that on the first fine day, as soon as our cart was 
constructed we should set forth, and make a grand 
picnic to the mountain.” 


THE SNOW LINE. 


259 


'r 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE SNOW LINE. 

“ In three days the cart was finished. We had no 
difficulty in constructing one, as the principal part — 
that is, thej wheels — was already made. We had 
two pair of them, of course, in our old wagon ; and 
the larger ones, which happened to be in very good 
order, served our purpose exactly. Cudjo soon at- 
tached a body and shafts to them, and Pompo’s har- 
ness was put into thorough repair. 

“ We had not long to wait for a fine day. Every 
day was fine in the clear, pure climate of our valley ; 
so that, as soon as the cart was ready, we had a day 
to our liking. We set out shortly after sunrise, with 
our hearts full of anticipated pleasure. Of course, 
we all went — Mary, the ch'Idren, Cudjo, Pompo, 
dogs, and all. The house was again left to take care 
of itself. 

“ Mary and the two little ones rode in the can, 
upon a soft seat made of palmetto leaves and Spanisn 
moss. Pompo, who appeared to partake of the gen 
wal happiness, whisked the vehicle along as If there 


IJ THE SNOW LINE. 

had een nobody in it, and he was only drawing it 
for his own amusement. Cudjo cracked his grea* 
wagon whip, and every now and then uttered a loua 
' Wo-ha ; ’ while Castor and Pollux galloped gayly from 
side to side, running their noses into every bush that 
grew along the path. 

We soon made our way through the valley, and 
climbed up to the plain. We looked once more upon 
the desert that stretched away on all sides ; but its 
dreary aspect no longer filled us with fear. We did 
not regard it now, and the sight inspired us wifi, feel 
ings of curiosity and novelty rather than of terror 
Away to the southward, the sun was glancrng upon 
the broad expanse of white sand ; and several tall 
objects, like vast, dun-colored towers, were moving 
over the plain. They were whirlwinds, carrying the 
dust upward to the blue sKy, and spinning it from 
point to point. Sometimes one glided away alone, 
until it was lost on the distant horizon. ^Here two of 
them were mo'dng in the same direction, keeping a 
regular distance from each other, and seemingly run- 
ning a race. There several came together ; and after 
a short, gusty contest, the whole set would break up 
into shapeless masses of yellowSh clouds, and then 
fioal onward with the wind, and downw'ard to the 
earth again. It was an interesting sight to view those 
huge pillars towering up to the heavens, and whirling 
ike unearthly objects over .he wide plain. It was 


THE SNOW LINE. 


20 


ndeecl. an interesting sight ; and we remained fo/ 
many minutes observing their motions. 

“ A t length we turned our faces towards the moun* 
ain, and continued our journey along the edge of the 
cliffs. The high peak glistened before us, and the 
sun’s rays falling upon it, caused it to appear of a 
beautiful color — a mixture of gold and red, as though 
a showe** of roses had fallen upon the snow ! We 
noticed th*'t there was now more snow upon the moun- 
tain than when we had first seen it, and that it came 
farther down i*s sides. This attracted the attention 
of all of us ; and Frank at once called for an expla- 
nation, which his mother volunteered to give, for she 
!'ery well understood the phenomenon. 

“ ‘ In the first place,’ said she, ‘ as you ascend 
upward in the atmosphere, it becomes thinner and 
colder. Beyond a certain point, it is so cold that 
neither men nor any other animals can exist. This 
can be proved in several ways ; and the experience of 
those who have climbed mountains only three miles 
high confirms it. Some of these adventurous men 
have been nearly frozen to death. This is a fact, 
then, in regard to the atmosphere over all parts of 
the earth ; but we may also observe, that near the 
equator you may go higher, without reaching this 
extreme cold, than in the countries which lie nearer 
to the poles. Another fact, which you will easily 
believe, is, that in sumn>er you can climb higher 


262 


' THE SNOW LINE. 


before you reach the cold region than in winter 
Bear these facts in mind. Now, then, if it be so coIo 
at a certain height that men would be frozen to death, 
of course, at that height snow will not melt. What 
is the natural inference ? Why, that mountains 
whose tops pierce up into this cold region will most 
certainly be covered with perpetual snow. It is not 
likely that any thing but snow ever falls upon their 
summits; for when it rains upon the plains around 
them, it is snowing upon the high peaks above. In- 
^ deed, it is probable that most of the rain which de- 
scends upon the earth has been crystals of snow when 
it commenced its descent ; and, afterwards melting 
in the lower and warmer regions of the atmosphere, 
takes the shape of water globules, and thus falls to 
the ground. These globules, no doubt, are very 
small when they first emerge from the snow region 
but as they pass slowly downward through clouds of 
vapor, they gather together and attract others, (by a 
law which I have not time to explain,) and, descend- 
ing faster and faster, at length plash down to the earth 
in large drops. Whenever it rains, then, at any par- 
ticular place, you may be almost certain that it isr 
snowing at the same time over that place — only at a 
-point in the atmosphere far above it. I have been 
convinced of this fact, by observing that, immediately 
after every occasion when it has rained in the valley 
tnero appeared a greater quantity of snow upon the 


THE SNOW LINE. 


26 S 


moiintain. Had the mountain not been there, this 
snow would have continued on and become rain, like 
that which fell upon the plains and into the valley.’ 

“ ‘Then, mamma,’ interrupted Frank, ‘ this moun- 
tain must be of great height, since the snow lies upon 
it all the year.’ 

“ ‘ Does that follow ? ’ 

“ ‘ I think so. You said the snow did not mel 
because it was cold high up.’ 

“‘But suppose you weie In a country near the 
north pole, where snow lies all the year at the very 
seaside, and consequently at the sea level : would it 
then prove a mountain to be very high ? ’ 

“ ‘ O ! I see — I see now. The perpetual snow 
upon a mountain only shows it to be of great height 
when the mountain happens to be in warm latitudes. 

“ ‘ Precisely so. In very warm countries, such as 
those within the tropics, when you see the snow cap 
upon a mountain, you may infer that it is a very high 
one — at least, over two miles ‘in height; and when 
there is much snow upon it, — that is, when the snow 
reaches far down its sides, — it proves the mountain to 
be still higher — three miles or more above the leve. 
of the^ ocean.’ 

“ ‘ Our mountain, then, must be a high one ; sinco 
It is in a warm latitude, and snow lies all the year 
upon it.’ 

, “ ‘ It is a high one, comparatively speaking ; but 


2C4 


THE SNOW LINE. 


vou wi remember, when we first saw it, there wai 
jnly a small patch of snow upon its top, and probably 
in very hot summers that disappears altogether ; so 
that it is not so high as many others upon this con- 
tinent. . Taking our latitude into calculation, and the 
quantity of snow which lies upon this mountain, I 
should say it was about fourteen thousand feet.’ 

“ ‘ O ! so much as that ? It does not seem half 
8D high I have seen mountains that appeared to^ixie 
tc be quite as high as it, and yet it was said they did 
not measure the half of fourteen thousand feet.’ 

“ ‘ That arises from the fact that you are not 
viewing this one from the sea level, as you did them. 
The plain upon which it stands, and from which we 
view it, is of itself elevated nearly half as much. 
You must remember that we are upon one of the 
nigh .tables of the American continent.’ 

“ Flere, for a minute or so, the conversation 
stopped ; and we travelled on in silence, all of us 
with our eyes fixed on the white and roseate peak 
that glittered before us, leading our eyes far up into 
the heavens. 

“ Frank again resumed the discourse, which had 
oeen broken off by our admiration of this beautiful 
object. 

“ ‘ Is it not curious,’ said he, ‘ that the snoulo 
lie so regularly, coming down on all sides to the same 
height, and ending just like the capo of a coat, or the 


THE SNOW LINE. 


265 


htsni of a nightcap ? It seems to be a tiaight lino 
all around the mountain.’ 

“ ‘ That line,’ rejoined his mother, ‘ is, as you say, 
a curious phenomenon, and caused by the laws of 
heat and cold, which we have just been explaining 
It is called the “ snow line,” and a good deal of 
speculation has arisen among cosmographers about 
the elevation of this line. Of course, on mountains 
within the tropics, this line will be at a great height 
above the level of the sea. As you advance north- 
ward or southward to the poles, it will be found 
Ipwer and lower, until within the frigid zones it may 
be said to cease altogether — for there, as we have 
said, snow covers the whole earth, and there can bo 
no “ snow line.” 

“ ‘ From this, one would suppose that an exact 
scale might be formed, giving the elevation of the 
snow line tor all latitudes. But that could not be 
done. Observation has shown that it not only differs 
on mountains that lie in the same latitude, but that 
on the same mountain it is often higher on one side 
than the other — particularly on those of great ex- 
tent, as the Himalayas of India. This is all quite 
natural, and easily accounted for. The position of 
mountains to one another, and their proximity oi 
great distance from the sea, will give them a coldei 
or warmer atmosphere, independent of latitude 
Moreover, the same mountain rr.ay have a warmei 
23 


X 


266 


THE SNOW LINE 


cUmale on one side than the other ; and of course hi' 
snow line will be higher on that side which is the 
warmer, in consequence of the greater melting of the 
snow. This line, too, varies in summer and winter 
for a like reason — as we see here upon our own 
mountain, where it has already descended several 
feet since the weather has become colder. This, 
you will acknowledge, is all very* plain; and you will 
see, too, that nature, although apparently capricious 
in many of her operations, acts most regularly in this 
one, as perhaps in all others.’ 

“ ‘ But, mamma,’ inquired Harry, ‘ can we not 
get to the top of the mountain ? I should like to 
have some snow to make snowballs, and pelt Frank 
with them.’ 

“ ‘ It would be a very difficult task. Master Hal ; 
ind more than either you or I could get through 
with. I think Frank will escape being snowballed 
ihis time.’ 

“ ‘ But people have climbed to the top of the Flim- 
alaya Mountains ; and they are far higher than this 
1 am sure.’ 

“ ‘ Never,’ interrupted Frank ; ‘ no one has evei 
climbed the Himalayas. Have they, mamma ’ 

‘ No mortal has ever been so high as the sum 
mits of those great mountains, which are more than 
five miles above the level of the ocean. Even could 
♦hey be climbed, it is not likely that any animal 


t/lE SNOW uINS. 


26 ^ 


could live at their top. These inaccessille things 
seem to have been designed by the Creator to afford 
us objects for sublime contemplation — objects fai 
above the reach of mortal man, and that can never 
be rendered common by his contact. Do they not 
seem so ? ’ 

“ We had now reached the foot of the mountain, 
ind, halting near the entrance of the ravine, we 
loosed Pompo from his cart, and rested ourselves on 
the banks of the little stream. After a while, we 
commenced ascending up into the defile in search of 
the pihons. As we advanced, Mary pointed out the 
trees which she had noticed on a former occasion. 
They appeared of a light, green color, much lighter 
than others that grew near them. We made towards 
one which stood apart, and was most accessible to 
us. This we hoped might prove to be the bread 
pine tree ; and we approached it with feelings of 
anxiety and expectation. 

“ In a short time we were under its branches, and 
if we had had no other test than what we saw there, 
combined with the delicious fragrance of the tree, 
we could have told that it could be no other than the 
pihon. The ground was covered with cones, each of 
them about an inch and a half in length ; but, on 
examining them, we found them all broken open, and 
the seed extracted. Some animal had been there 
before us, and relished their contents — thus affording 


THE SNOW LINE. 


•J68 

a proof ^hat they were good to eat. There were stiL 
many of the cones hanging on the tree, and it was 
not long until we had split some of them open and 
»aftted their ripe seeds. 

“ ‘It is it ! ’ cried my wife, clapping her hands 
^wita delight. ‘ It is the nut pine ! This will servo 
for bread until we can grow our wheat and corn. 
Come, let us gather them,’ added she, pointing to a 
large grove of the same trees that grew at a short 
distance; and we all hurried to the grove, and com- 
menced shaking down the cones, and gathering them 
into heaps. 

“We had soon collected as many as we wanted 
and in the evening we returned to the valley, with 
our little cart half full of pine nuts. On reaching 
home, these were parched, and pounded into a sort 
of coarse meal; and that night, for the first time 
during many iveeks, we had cakes to our suj per.’ 


THE MENAGERIE, AVIARY, ETC. 


2f;s 


r.HAPTER XXVIII. 

THE MENAGEKIE, AVIARY, AND BOTANIC GARDEN 

“ We were busy, of course, every day, as we had 
plenty of work to do. We laid a floor in our cabin, 
and fenced a couple of fields — one to plant our corn 
in, and the other to keep Pompo from straying off 
into the woods and meeting with some animal that 
might feel inclined to devour him. We also suc- 
ceeded in killing several red deer and a couple of 
elk, which we stored up for our winter provision. 
We did not find the blacktails very palatable, and 
most of their flesh went to feed Castor and Pollux. 

“ Cudjo was the busiest of all of us. He made 
several household utensils, which proved of great 
service to us. He also constructed for himself a 
wooden plough, which would serve every purpose — 
as there was a considerable portion of the ground 
that was without turf, and could be easily turned. 
This part had been covered with beautiful flowers 
such as sunflowers, red and orange-colored poppies, 
and asclepias. It was almost a pity to plough 
them up 


23 * 


‘270 


THE MENAGERIE, AVIARl,. 


“ With an eye to the future scarcity of our am- 
munition, we had begun to practise hunting with a 
weapon which would answer all our purposes almost 
as well as the rifle — still keeping the latter, of course 
for great occasions. We'had found some of the hoit 
d^arCf or ‘ Osage orange,’ as it is called, growing in 
the valley. This is the famous bowwood of the 
Indians; and, taking a hint from these children of 
nature, we made three bows, stringing them — as the 
Indians do — with the sinews of the deer. For arrows, 
we had the straight cane reeds ; and Cudjo made us 
a set of barbs out of iron spikes that we had taken 
from the wagon. With daily practising at a mark 
before the winter was over, we were all three able to 
use our new weapons to some purpose ; and Harry, 
to his mother’s great delight, could bring down a 
squirrel from the top of the highest tree in the valley. 
As a marksman, both with the bow and rifle, he was 
quite superior to Frank, who, instead of feeling jeal- 
ous, seemed rather to be proud of the skill of his 
brother. Harry, during all the winter, kept our 
table loaded with partridges, squirrels, — of which 
there were several. species, — hares, and wild turkeys* 
tne last of which, being much finer than tame ones, 
of course we were all very fond of. 

“ My wife, too, added largely to the delicacies of 
our table. During the last days of autumn, she made 
several botanical excursions, — of course all of us 




AND BOTANIC GARDEN. 


27 


acc.ompanying her by way of guard, — and in each 
of these some useful production was discovered. 
We found several species of wild fruits — currants, 
cherries, and a small fruit known as the ‘ service 
berry,’ which grew in great profusion. All thes.. 
fruits were gathered in quantity, and made into pre- 
Jierves. We obtained 'roots as well — one of which 
was the pomrhe blanche^ or Indian turnip ; but the most 
interesting of all was the wild potato, which we dug 
up — for, in fact, it is only upon these jtable lands of 
America where that plant is indigenous. We should 
not have recognized it as an old acquaintance but 
for the botanical knowledge of my wife. Its roots 
were not larger thqn wrens’ eggs, and we could 
find so few of them, that, in its wild state, we saw 
it would be of no use to us as an article food. 
Mary, however, had hopes that, by cultivation, we 
might produce larger ones ; so we collected all the 
tubers we could fall in with, and kept them for seed 
“ Out of the pods of the honey locust, we brewed 
a very agreeable sort of beer ; but we were able to 
extract a still more generous beverage from the wild 
or fox grapes thjjt grew in all parts of the valley. 
While travelling through France, I had learned how 
ihe wine was made ; and our vintage succeeded to 
perfection. On the winter nights, as we sat around 
our cheerful log fire, Mary was accustomed to deal 
out to us a measure apiece of the exhilarating drink. 


272 


THE MENAGERIE, AVI ART, 


It was only, however, after a hard day’s work, o! 
hunting, that we were allowed to draw upon this 
precious store. 

“ About this time, a new idea entered into my. 
mind, which I communicated to the others, and with 
which they all fully agreed. It was this : To capture 
as many of the wild animals as we could, and endeavor 
to domesticate them to our uses. I was prompted to 
this purpose by various considerations. First, because 
I saw, although there were several kinds of deer in 
the valley, there were but few of each kind ; and it 
was not likely that for many years they had been 
upon the increase. Nature had so disposed it, that 
\hese creatures had been regularly thinned off every 
year by the numerous beasts of prey that prowled 
through the valley. Now, an additional enemy was 
added to the number of their destroyers ; and I fore- 
saw that, unless some precaution should be taken, 
the deer would soon become so scarce and wild, that 
we should find it difficult to obtain enough for our 
uses. Could we only kill off the fierce beasts — such 
us panthers, and wolves, and wolverenes — that 
preyed upon them, then the whole valley would be- 
come our deer park, and the deer would soon increase 
to any number we wanted. This, however, we could 
not do ; arfd, in fact, the beasts of prey were as likely 
to master us as we them — for none of us were safe 
in venturing into the thick woods alone ; and when 








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AND BOTANIC GARDEN. 


273 


ev(ii the boys made a short excursion from the glade 
*heir mother was always in a state of anxiety unti 
they returned. In fact, every Hunt we made was 
attended with considerable danger, as we always fell 
in with the tracks of wolves, panthers and even bears; 
and we frequently saw these animals skulking through 
tile underwood. We knew that in time our powdei 
must run out, and then our rifles would be useless to 
us. Our bows and arrows would then avail us but 
little against such thick-hided monsters as these. We 
only hoped that, when we became better acquainted 
with the habits of these carnivorous creatures, we 
should be enabled to destroy them in traps, and thus 
thin them off at our leisure, and without wasting 
our ammunition. This, of course, would constitute 
a branch of our employment; and, besides being a 
work of utility, would furnish us with an excite- 
ment not the less agreeable because it was hazardous. 
CJould we, therefore, collect a few of the more 
useful animals into an enclosed park, they would 
soon propagate and increase, and then the trouble 
as well as danger which we experienced in hunt- 
ing them would be at an end. We knew that 
our maize corn, yielding two crops in the year, 
would enable us to supply them abundantly with 
food. 

“ There was still another consideration, which had 
its weight in these plans. I was very fond of the 


274 THE MENAGERIE, AVIARY, _ 

Study of natural history, — particularly that branc’u 
of it relating to quadrupeds, — and 1 foresaw the pleas- 
ure of observing the habits of these wild creatures 
We should not, therefore, confine ourselves to making 
‘pets’ of those animals that might merely serve us 
for food. We should embrace in our collection all 
that we could subject to our rule, whether gentle oi 
fierce. In fact, it was our intention to establish a 
regular ‘ menagerie of the desert.’ 

“ The main object of our industry and prospective 
wealth — that is, the collection of the beaver fur — ■ 
would not, in any way, interfere with these plans. 
The beavers, in short, would give us very little 
trouble — as the drying and preserving the skins of 
those we should trap annually would only occupy us 
i small portion of the year. * 

“ Harry entered with more spirit into my designs 
than any of the others ; for Harry, like myself, was 
fond of the quadrupeds. Frank, on the other ha'ua 
was a great birdcatcher, and recommended that we 
should include the birds in our menagerie. To this, 
of course, we assented freely. Mary had her ^wn 
designs already shaped out ; and these were to gather 
all the plants and trees that might be either curious 
or useful, and to observe what effect cultivation would 
produce upon them — in short, it was her wish to 
form a complete ‘ botanical garden.’ 

'* To each, then, was given a separate department. 


AHD BOTANIC GARDEN. 


275 


Harry and I were designated' ‘ beast tamers ; Frank 
the ‘ bird tamer ; ’ while Mary was appropriately styled 
the ‘ tree tamer ’ To Cudjo was assigned a very im- 
portant share of the labor. He was to enclose the 
park for our deer, as well as the grounds for the 
botanic garden. He was, also, to make our traps 
and cages — all of which things Gudjo knew how to 
do, and how to do them well. Of course, we were 
to assist him, as well as each other, in carrying out 
our designs. ^ 

“ Thus our plans for the future were interesting 
to all of us. In our various pursuits, we should be 
enabled to employ all our idle time. We had no 
books, either to amuse or instruct us ; but we knew 
that we should derive both instruction and amusement 
from the study of the greatest of all books — book 
of nature^*'* 


27 « 


TRAPPING THE BEAFTS AND BIRT>i« 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

TRAPPING THE BEASTS AND BIRDS. 

** Harry was the first who succeeded in making t 
capture ; and that was a pair of gray squirrels, which 
he had trapped at the bottom of their tree. For these 
a large cage was constructed, and they soon became 
80 tame that they would take the nuts provided for 
them out of our hands. These, of course, were only 
idle pets ; but they added much to our company and 
amusement, as we watched them in theii antifw^ 
around the bars of their cage — now springing from 
point to point, and now sitting, monkey-like, and 
gnawing the nuts as they held them between their 
fore paws. 

“ Shortly after this event, Frank became the hero 
of the hour ; and his achievement was one of consid- 
erable importance. For some time, he had been 
keeping his eye upon the wild turkeys ; and, for the 
purpose of securing some of them alive, he had con- 
structed, not far from the house, a species of pen-- 
which is known in America by the name of ‘ og trap.' 
This was a very simple contrivance. It was made 0/ 


I'RAPll.TG THE BEASTS IND BIRDS. 211 

split rails, such as Cudjo used for his fences • and 
these were placed upon one another, so as to enclose 
a ho-low square between them. They were raised 
about the height of an ordinary fence from the 
ground, w^hile other rails — heavy ones — were laid 
over the top, close enough to prevent the turkeys, 
should they enter, from escaping, but not so near 
each other as to darken the interior of the trap, and 
so render it forbidding in its appearance. The en- 
trance was the main contrivance, although it was not 
an original idea with Frank. It was upon a plan 
similar to the wire cages used for trapping rats — 
where the rat can easily find its way in, but has not 
sufficient cunning to know the road out again. Pre- 
cisely as the wire funnel is constructed for the rats, 
Frank had made one of rails, for his turkeys, and 
waited patiently until some of them should enter it. 
He placed various kinds of seeds and roots within 
the enclosure ; but several days passed, and no birds 
were taken. 

“ After some practice, the ‘ birdcatcher ’ became 
able to imitate the ‘ gobbling ’ of the old cocks so 
exactly, that, at some distance off in the woods, you 
could not tell but that it was one of themselves. 
By this means, he could call the turkeys up to the 
ground where he himself lay concealed ; but the 
seed% he had baited his trap with were not sufficiently 
enticing, and none of them would go under the rails 
24 


278 


TRAPPING THE BEASTS AND BIRDS. 


At length, however, he hit upon an expedient, which 
was sure to succeed, if any thing could. He had shot 
one of the turkeys w.:h his arrows; and, taking it 
into the trap, he carefully propped it up, so that it 
appeared to be still alive, and busy feeding upon its 
bait. He then retired to some distance ; and, hiding 
himself among the brushwood, ‘ gobbled ’ as before. 
Three large birds soon made their appearance, 
coming cautiously through the woods. Of course, 
like all wild turkeys, they were upon the ground, 
stalking along just like so many ostriches. At 
length, they came in sight of the pen, and, seeing 
one of their own kind quietly feeding, as they 
thought, within it, they approached fearlessly, and 
ran around the enclosure, seeking for an entrance. 
Frank lay watching all their movements, and his 
heart, at this moment, was thumping against his ribs. 
His anxiety did not long endure. The three great 
birds soon found the wide funnel ; and, without hesi- 
tating, ran up it, and appeared inside the trap. Frank 
sprang from his lurking-place ; and, running forward, 
first shut up the entrance by filling it with stones. 
Then, climbing upon the top, he slipped through 
oetween the rails, and secured the birds by tying 
their legs together with a stout thong of deer skin. 
When he had lifted them out of the trap, he again 
adjusted every thing, leaving the ‘ decoy turl^ey 
quietly feeding as before, and, shouldering his priw 


TKAPPING THE BEASTS AND BIRDS. 


279 


he marched off in triumph. His return to the house 
was greeted with exclamations of joy ; and a rail 
pen was immediately built for the birds, similar to 
the trap in which they had been caught, but, of 
course, without the funnel or entrance. The only 
regret we had was, that the three were all cocks— 
regular ‘ old gobblers.’ 

“■ Next day, however, Frank remedied this by 
making a still more important capture. On return 
ing to visit his trap before sunrise, he saw from a 
distance that there was a live turkey inside, with a 
number of smaller birds, which, in the gray light, 
appeared like so many partridges. On getting near- 
er, to his surprise and delight he found that what he 
had taken for partridges was a large brood of young 
turkeys, and that which he had first seen was their 
mother. The little ones were running out and in, for 
they could easily pass between the rails ; while the 
mother ran around, thrusting her head out of the 
pen, and occasionally spreading her wings and flap- 
ping upwards, endeavoring to escape in that direction. 
The young were all making a great ado, and evident- 
ly aware that their mother was ‘ in the trap.’ 

“ Frank, fearing that the youngsters might get off 
if he attempted to approach them alone, came back 
to the house, and summoned Harry, Cudjo, and my- 
self to his assistance. To make sure of them, we 
look with us the long canvas tilt of the wagon, with 


280 


TRAPPING THE BEASTS AND BIRTS. 


& couple of blankets fastened to it at the end. W« 
adoptei every precaution, as we looked upon captur. 
ing this young brood as a thing of great importance 
since we could bring them up quite domesticated, 
and from them should breed as many more as we 
pleased. We approached the pen with all due cau- 
tion ; and, when near, we separated, each of us taking 
a side. We then advanced upon the trap, completely 
ourrounding it; and, while the birds ran confusedly 
from side to side, we stretched the tilt and blankets 
all around the pen, thus cutting off their retreat. 
In a few moments we had secured both the old hen 
and her chicks, amounting, in all, to no less than 
eighteen of them ! This was a capture, indeed*; and 
we immediately hurried back to the house with them, 
not forgetting to take along with us the ‘ decoy tur- 
key,’ which, being a fine, fat fellow, and killed only 
the day before, served us for a very good dinner. 
For the turkey hen and young we built another pen, 
near to that where we had imprisoned the three ‘ old 
gobblers.’ The one last constructed was made with 
more care, and closer between the rails, so that the 
youngsters might not get out and wander off. 

Frank again baited his log trap, and used for a 
ilecoy one of the gobblers, which he tied by the leg to 
a rail. In this way several others were caught ; when 
the birds at length becarr e shy, and kept away from 
the pen altogether. However, we had now as many 


TRAPPING THE BEASTS AND BIRDS. 28 

as we could feed, until our corn should ripen and be 
gathered. 

“ From this time, every day saw new additions to 
our aviary. Frank had procured the baik of the ilex 
opaca, or American holly ; and this, when macerated 
in water, and then fermented and cleared of its fibres, 
made the very best of birdlime. A large cage had 
been constructed out of bowwood with the straight 
reeds of the cane, and divided into many compart- 
ments, so that birds of different species should be sep- 
arated from each other. In a short time, the cage 
was seen to contain specimens of the blue jay and 
red bird, or Virginia nightingale, orioles of several 
species, and doves of two distinct kinds. There 
were also several Carolina paroquets ; and Frank had 
succeeded in capturing a bird of a very rare kind, 
which, I believe, is known to the Indians as the 
‘ wakon.’ It was the American bird of paradise ; and, 
like those of the eastern world, had several long 
feathers growing from its tail, and stretching away 
gracefully behind it. In the cage were also finches 
of different varieties, and beautiful, bright plumage. 
Among others were the green bird, the redstart, and 
the cock of the woods ; the little blue bird also, the red- 
winged starling, and the orange-headed troupiale — 
which last species migrated in large flocks into the val- 
ley. There was a number of small cages, whicn bae 
been constructed for the smallest of all birds — the 
24 * 


Y 


282 


TRAPPING THE BEASTS AND BiRDS. 


hummingbirds — and Frank had caught no less than n 
dozen different kinds of these most beautiful creatures 
which he daily supplied with fresh flowers. Another 
cage^ apart from all the rest, held an inmate that, 

§o far as appearance went, you would have said had 
no right to be thus distinguished in having a house" 
all to himself. He was of a sober, gray color, some- 
what of the wagtail shape, with long, black legs, and 
claws of a dirty hue ; and was altogether an ill- 
favored bird, not any better looking than a common 
housesparrow. Had you known nothing more about 
him than his outward appearance, you would hardly 
have deigned to waste a second look upon him. 
The moment, however, his black bill was opened, and 
his lead-colored throat became expanded in a song, 
you forgot all about the dull hue of his plumage. 
You all at once forgot the bright wings of the paro 
quet, and the beautiful form of the oriole ; the red 
bird, the blue jay, and the wakon were alike forgot- 
ten, and you gazed upon this sweet musician with 
delight and admiration. As you continued to listen, 
you would notice that he mimicked almost every 
sound that occurred within hearing. When any of 
the others commenced to sing, he would catch the 
strain, as it were, from their lips, and, giving it 
m a far higher and bolder tone, shame them into 
silence. This, I need hardly tell you, was the famous 
mack bird — the nightingale of America 


TRAPPING THE BEASTS AND BIRDS. 

While Frank was daily increasing his stock of 
creatures, Harry was not idle among tho 
»^uadriipeds. No less than five kinds of squirrels had 
hsen caught and caged. These were the gray, black, 
and red, or fox varieties of the tree squirrel, and two 
species of ground squirrel — one the common hackee, 
or chipping squirrel ; while the other was a new spe- 
cies, which we had caught on the desert plain above, 
among the fcx)ts of the artemisia plant. This last 
was a beautiful little creature, not much larger than 
a mouse, and striped like a little zebra. It has never 
— as far as I can tell — been described by naturalists; 
and on this account, as well as from its peculiar size 
and beauty, it was a general favorite with all of us, 
particularly with Luisa and Mary, in whose laps it 
soon learned to sleep, like a tamed mouse. 

“ Besides the squirrels, Harry’s collection embraced 
a hare and a couple of raccoons. These last were 
the produce of a night hunt or two which Cudjo haC 
made with the dogs; and, although these foxliki 
animals were by no means useful pets, yet they gav 
a variety to our collection, and added to our arnup# 
oient in the observ'ation of their curious habits,’' 


284 


THE BITE BiT. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE BITERS BIT. 

OcR uext was a fishing excursion. As 1 hart 
said, Ciidjo had already discovered that our stream 
containeo fish, and had caught several ot them. 
They were something like salmon trout, although 
differiniT considerably from that species in color. 
Nevertheless, they were very delicious eating, and 
we were ail very fond of them. 

“We set forth in the morning, but on this occa- 
sion we left Pompo and his cart behind, as we had 
not far to go — only a short distance down the 
stream, where Cudjo knew a large pool in which the 
fish were plenty. We took with us lines, made out 
of the wild flax that grows in the valley, and which, 
Mary tells us, is found in all countries that border 
upon tne Rocky Mountains. Our rods were long, 
tapering canes, which we had in abundance around 
us. For hooks, we used pins bent into the proper 
shape ; ana our bait consisted of a variety of worms 
All these things were carried by Harry and Frank 
while C’ldjo and 1 took the younger ones in our armi 


THE BITERS BIT. 


285 


tnd Mary was left free to botanize as we passed 
alorg. Castor and Pollux accompanied us, of course; 
and Pompo, as he saw us leave the house, ran neigh- 
ing around his enclosure, as if quite vexed at our 
leaving him behind. Cudjo, of course, became our 
guide, taking us through the woods to that part of 
the stream where was his favorite fishing ground. 

“ After travelling at our leisure about a quarter cf 
a mile, we were all brought to a sudden halt by an 
exclamation from my wife, who stood pointing at 
some trees a little to one side of the path. 

“ ‘ What, mamma ! ’ cried Harry, ‘ another fine 
tree ? Why, the real bread fruit and the cocoa nuts 
will turn up yet, I believe, in spite of the latitude.’ 

“‘I am sorry for your sake, Harry,’ replied hij 
mamma, ‘ as well as our own, that I have not made 
the discovery of another fine tree. No ; it is quite 
another thing, and not a very useful discovery. But 
it may be curious to you ; and papa, here, can read 
you a chapter of natural history upon it. It is in 
lis line. It is a four-footed animal.’ 

“ ‘ Animal ! ’ exclaimed Harry ; ‘ I see no animal. 
Where is it, mamma ? ’ 

“ ‘ Nor do I,’ replied his mother , ‘ but I see indica* 
tons of the presence of one, and a very destructive 
one, too. Look there!’ 

“As Mary said this, she pointed to a grove of 
yciing cottonwood treesj from which the bark and 


066 


THE BITERS BIT. 


leaves were stripped off as cleanly as if they, hatf 
been gnawed by goats, or scraped with a knife 
Some of the trees were quite dead ; while others of 
their, were freshly peeled, and only waited for a little 
time to decay them. 

O, I see what you mean now, mamma.’ said 
Harry. ‘Some animal has done this — but what 
one ? The beavers cannot climb ; and I am sure 
neither squirrels, raccoons, nor opossums would take 
the bark from trees in that manner. 

“ ‘ No ; it was none of them Your papa can best 
inform you what sort of animal has been so destruc- 
tive to these young trees, which, you perceive, are of 
the beautiful cottonwood species, the popiUtts angu- 
latus of botanists.’ 

“ ‘ Come, Harry,’ said I, ‘ let us first find the 
animal, if we can.’ 

“ We all turned towards the leafless grove. We 
had not walked many steps in that direction, when 
the very animal we were in search of appeared on 
the ground before us. It was quite three feet long 
thick, and broad in the back, and arched from ^he 
nose to the tail. It was of a speckled,'gray color, 
but with the roughest coat of hair that could possibly 
be imagined. Its head and nose were very small for 
the size of its body ; and its short, stout legs, with 
their long claws, were scarcely visible under the 
thick, shaggy hair. Its ears were also buried under 


THE BITERS BH. 


287 


he hair ; and it looked more like a round, tufted 
mass than an animal. It was down upon the ground, 
and had evidently perceived our approach, as it was 
making off through the grass as fast as it could. 
That, however, was not very fast, — not faster than a 
frog could go, — for the animal in question is one of 
die very slowest travellers. 

“ As soon as I caught sight of it, and saw that it 
was upon the ground, — and not among the branches, 
where I had expected to find it, — I turned round to 
secure the dogs. I was too late, for these unrea* 
soning animals had already seen it, and, forgetful of 
the lesson which the skunk had taught them, were 
dashing forward in full cry. I endeavored to call 
them off ; but, heedless of our shouts, both rushed on 
the strange creature at once. The latter, seeing 
them approach, immediately stopped, buried its head 
under its breast, seemed suddenly to swell upward 
and outward to twice its natural size' — while its 
rough, thick tail was brandished from side to side in 
a furious and threatening manner. 

“ We could all now see that that which had ap- 
peared* to be coarse, thick hair was nothing else than 
long, bristling spines ; and Harry at once cried out, — 

“ ‘ A porcupine ! a porcupine ! ’ 

“ The dogs, unfortunately for themselves, did not 
know what it was ; nor did they stop to consider, but 
dashed upon it, open mouthed, as they usually do with 


238 


THE BITEKS BIT. 


any' strange animal. They did not hold it long, fol 
the next moment they dropped it, and came running 
back more open mouthed than ever, — uttering the 
most piteous howls, — and we saw that their nose, 
lips, and jaws were sticking full of the sharp quills! 
Meanwhile, the porcupine again stretched nimself 
out ; and, crawling to the foot of a tree, commenced 
climbing up. But Cudjo, who was highly offended 
with the treatment which his favorites had received, 
rushed after, and, knocking down the animal with 
his spear, soon despatched him. 

“ Harry, who had grown much wiser since hia 
adventure with the skunk, was rather shy of ap- 
proaching the porcupine — particularly as he had 
heard that this animal possesses the power of shoot- 
ing his quills to some distance, and sticking them 
like arrows into his enemies. Harry inquired if 
this were true. ^ 

“ ‘ No, ’ I replied ; ‘ it is only one of those fabulous 
stories which the ingenious French naturalist BufFon 
so much delighted to recount.' The porcupine’s 
quills may be pulled out easily by any thing which 
presses too rudely against them, such as the mouth 
of a mastiff ; and this because they are very slightly 
attached by their roots, and have a barb upon their 
tops that lakes hold upon any enemy that may at- 
tempt to touch them. This is the only defence the 
poor animal has got, as it is so slow’ of foot that any 


THE BITERS BIT. 


289 


of its enemies can easily come up with it. But, not- 
withstanding its slowness, most of the fierce crea- 
tures find it better to leave the porcupine to himself, 
and his innocent opcupation of ‘ barking ’ the trees. 
He generally proves more than a match for any of 
them ; and, in fact, neither wolf, panther, nor wildcat 
can kill him, as there is not a spot of his body which 
they can touch when he prej)ares himself for their 
attack. On the other hand, he frequently kills them ; 
only in self-defence, however, as he never attacks any 
animal, but lives altogether on his simple food — the 
bark and leaves of trees. The cougar is often found 
dead in the woods, his death occasioned by the porcu- 
pine’s quills that are seen sticking in his mouth and 
tongue. So also the lynx has been found, as well £is 
many dogs and wolves.’ 

“ So much of the natural history of this strange 
animal I related to my companions at the time ; but, 
shortly after, an incident was witnessed by Harry and 
myself, which showed us that the porcupine, notwith- 
standing his bristling" armor, had one enemy, at least, 
who could master him upon occasions. Although it 
□ccjrred some months after our fishing excursion, 
now that we are speaking of the porcupine, I sltall 
relate it” 


25 


290 


BATTLE OF THE MARTEN AND PORCUPINE. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

BATTLE OF THE MARTEN AND PORC'UPINl 

'V 

“ It was in the middle of the winter. A light snow 
had fallen upon the ground -2- just enough to enable 
us to follow the trail of any animal we might light 
upon. Of course, the snow filled us with the idea of 
hunting ; and Harry and I started out upon the tracks 
of a brace of elk that had passed through our open- 
ing during the night. The tracks were very fresh 
looking ; and it was evident that the animals had 
passed in the morning, just before we were up. We 
concluded, therefore, that they had not gone far off; 
and we hoped soon to come up with them. 

“ The trail led us along the side of the lake, and 
then up the left bank of the stream. Castor and Pol- 
Ijx were with us; but in our hunting excursions we 
usually led them in a leash, so that they might not 
frighten the game by running ahead of us. 

“ When about half a mile from the house, we 
found that the elk had crossed to the right bank of 
the stream. We were about to follow, when all at 
once our eyes fell upon a most singular track at 


BATTLE OF THE MARTEN AND PORCUMNE. 291 

tracks thsL led off into the woods. They were tht 
tracks of human feet — the feet of children ! 

‘‘ So thought we, at first sight of them ; and you 
IT ay fancy the surprise into which we were suddenly 
thrown. They were about five inches in length, and 
exactly such as would have been made by a bare- 
footed urchin of six years old. There appeared to be 
two sets of them, as if two children had passed., fol- 
lowing one another on the sanfe trail. What could it 
mean.? After all, were there human beings in the 
valley besides ourselves .? Could these be the foot- 
prints of two young Indians .? All at once I thought 
of the Diggers — the Yamparicos — the root eaters — 
who are found in almost every hole and corner of the 
American Desert. Could it be possible that a family 
of these wretched creatures existed in the valley.? 

Quite possible,’ thought I, when I reflected upon 
their habits. Living upon roots, insects, and reptiles, 
burrowing in holes and caves like the wild animals 
around them, — a family or more might havs been 
living all this time in some unexplored corner of the 
valley, without our having encoui^tered any traces of 
them. Was this really so .? and were the tracks be-* 
fore us the footmarks of a brace of young Diggers 
who had been passing from point to point ? 

“ Of course, our elk hunt was given up until this 
mystery should be solved ; and we turned off from 
the trail of the latter to follow that of the children 


292 BATTLE OF THE MABTEN AND FORC3 ?INE. 

“In coming out an open place, where tbt 
enow lay smoothly, and the footprints appeared well 
defined, 1 stooped down to examine them more 
minutely, in order to be satisfied that they were the 
tracks of human feet. Sure enough, there were 
the heels, the regular widening of the foot near 
the toes, and the toes themselves all plainly stamped 
upon the snow. Here, however, arose another 
mystery. On counting the toes, I found that in 
some of the tracks there were five, — as there should 
have been, — while in others there were only four ! 
This led me to examine the print of the toes more 
carefully ; and I now saw that each of them was 
armed with a claw, which, on account of some hairy 
covering, had made but a very indefinite impres- 
sion in the snow. The tracks, then, were not the 
footmarks of children, but those of some animal with 
claws. ' 

“ Notwithstanding that we had come to this con- 
clusion, we still continued to follow the trail. We 
were curious to see what sort of a creature had made 
it. Perhaps it might be some animal unkno\VT. to 
naturalists — some new species; and we might one 
day have the merit of being the first to describe it. 
We had not far to go: a bundled yards or so 
brought us in sight of a grove of young cotton* 
woDds ; and these, we saw at a glance, wore ‘ barked 
by a porcupine. The whole mystery was cleared 


BATTLE OP THE MARTEN AND PORCUPINE. 293 


up — we had been following in the trail of this 
animal. 

“ I now remembered that the porcupine was one 
of the j>lantigrade family, with five toes on his hind 
feet, and only four on the fore ones. The tracks 
were undoubtedly his. 

“ My companion and I were somewhat chagrined 
at being thus drawn away from our hunt by such an 
insignificant object ; and we vowed to take vengeance 
upon the porcupine, as soon as we should set our 
eyes upon him. We were not long in doing this, 
for, as we stole quietly forward, we caught sight of a 
shaggy animal moving among the branches of a tree 
about fifty yards ahead of us. It was he, of course. 
At the same moment, however, another animal ‘ hove 
in sight,’ in appearance as different from the porcu- 
pine as a bull from a bluebottle. 

“ This creature — tail and all — was not less than 
a yard and a quarter in length, and yet its body was 
not thicker than the upper part of a man’s arm. Its 
head was broad and somewhat flattened, with short, 
erect ears, and pointed nose. It was bearded like a 
cat, althougti the face had more of the dog in Its ex 
pression Its legs were short and strong; and both 
legs and body' denoted the possession of agility and 
strength. It was of a reddish-brown color, with a 
white mark on the breast, and darker along the back 
and on the legs, feet, nose, and tail. Its whole ap 
25 * 


294 BATTLE CV THE MARTEN AM) PORCUPINE. 

pearance reminded one of a gigantic weaijel, - - whic 
in fact it was, — the great marten of America, gen 
erally, though improperly, called the ‘ fisher.’ When 
we first saw it, it was crouching along a nigh log 
that ran d ectly towards the tree, upon which was the 
porcupine. Its eyes were fixed intently upon the 
latter ; and it was evidently meditating an attack. 
We stopped to watch it. 

“ The porcupine had not yet perceived his enemy 
as he was busily engaged in splitting the bark from 
the cottonwood. The marten, after reconnoitring 
him for some moments, sprang off from the log, and 
came running towards the tree. The other now saw 
him, and at the same instant uttered a sort of shrill, 
querulous cry, and appeared to be greatly affrighted. 
To our astonishment, however, instead of remaining 
where it was, it suddenly dropped to the ground, 
almost at the very nose of its adversary ! I could 
not, at first, understand the policy of this strange 
tactic on the part of the porcupine ; but a moment’s 
reflection convinced me it was sound policy. The 
marten would have been as much at home on the tree 
himself ; and had he remained among the branches 
— which were slender ones, — his throat and the un- 
der part of his body — both of which are soft, and 
without quills — would have been 'exposed to the teeth 
of his adversary. This, then, was why he had le 
bimself down so unexpectedly ; and we noticed that 


BATTIJE OF THE MARTEN AND PORCUPINE. 29.'i 


the instant ho touched the ground, he rolled him.^elf 
into a round clew, presenting on all sides the formida- 
ble chevaux-de~frise of his quills. 

“ The marten now ran around him, doubling his 
long, vermiform body with great activity — at interval! 
showing his teeth, erecting his back, and snarling 
like a cat. We expected every moment to see him 
spring forward upon his victim ; but he did not do 
80. He evidently understood the peril of such an 
act ; and appeared for a moment puzzled as to how 
he should proceed. All this while, the porcupine lay 
quiet — the tail. This was, in fact, the only 

‘ feature ’ of the animal that^^ could be seen, as the 
head and feel were completely hidden under the 
body. The tail, however, was kept constantly in 
motion — jerked from side to side, and flirted occa- 
sionally upwards. 

“ What would the marten do ? ^J^ere was not an 
inch of the other’s body that was not defended by 
the sharp and barbed quills — not a spot where he 
could insert the tip of his nose. Would he abandon 
the contest ? So thought we, for a while ; but we 
were soon convinced of our error. 

“After running around several times, as we have 
described, he at length posted himself near the hind 
quarters of the porcupine, and with his nose a few 
inches from the tail of the latter. In this position 
he stood for some moments, apparently watching 


296 BATrLL OF THE MARTEN AND PORCUPINE. 

vlie tail, which still continued to oscillate rapidly 
He stood '.n perfect silence, and without making a 
movement. 

“ The porcupine, not being able to see him, and 
l^rhaps thinking that he was gone, now waved hia 
tail more slowly, and then suffered it to drop motion- 
less. 

“This was what the other was waiting for; and, 
the next moment, he had seized the' tail in his teeth. 
We saw that he held it b) the tip, where it is desti- 
tute of the thorny spines. 

“ What would he do next ? Was he going to bite 
off the end of the porcupine’s tail No such thing. 
He had a different game from that to play, as we soon 
witnessed. ’ 

“ The moment he caught the tail, the porcupine 
uttered its querulous cries; but the marten, heeding 
not these, comr|(enced walking backward, dragging 
the other after him. Where was he dragging it to ? 
We soon saw. He was pulling it to a tree close by, 
with low branches, that forked out near the ground. 
‘ But for what purpose ? ’ thought we. We w'ondeied 
as we watched. 

The porcupine could offer no resistance. Its feet 
gaie way, and slipped along the snowy ground ; for 
the marten was evidently the much stronger animal 

“ In a short time, the latter had reached the tree, 
dreigging the other after him to its foot. He nov 


BATTLE OF THE MARTEN AND PORCUPINE. 29^ 


commenced ascending, still holding the porcupine’s 
nil in h'.s teeth, and ti-king precious care net tc 
brush too closely to the quills. ‘ Surely,’ thought 
we, ‘ he cannot climb up, carrying a body almost as 
big as himself, in that manner ! ’ It was not his in* 
tention to climb up, — only to one of the lowermost 
branches, — and the next moment he had reached it, 
stretching his long body out on the limb, and clutch* 
•ng it firmly with his catlike claws. He still held 
fast hold of the porcupine’s tail, which animal was 
now lifted into such a position that only its fore 
quarters rested on the ground, and it appeared to 
stand upon its head, all the while uttering its pitiful 
cries. 

“ For the life of us, we could not guess what the 
marten meant by all this manoBuvring. He knew 
well enough, as he gave proof the moment after. 
When he had got the other, as it were* on a balance, 
he suddenly sprang back to the ground, in such a 
direction that the impetus of his leap jerked the por- 
cupine upon its back. Before the clumsy creature 
was able to turn over and ‘ clew ’ itself, the active 
weasel had pounced upon its belly, and buried his 
claws in the soft flesh, while, at the same time, his 
teeth were made fast in the throat ! 

“ In vain the porcupine struggled. The other rods 
I'im with such agility, that he was unab’e tc get right 
jpide up again ; and in a few moments the struggle 


298 BATTLE OF THE MARTEN AND PORCUPINE. 

would have ended, by the porcupine’s throat being 
cut ; but we saw that it was time for us to interfere 
and, slipping Castor and Pollux from the leash, we 
ran forward. 

“ The dogs soon drove the marten from his victim, 
but he did not run from them. On the contrary, he 
turned round upon them, keeping them at bay with 
his sharp teeth and fierce snarling. In truth, they 
would have had a very tough job of it, had we no' 
been near ; but, on seeing us approach, the animal 
took to a tree, running up it like a squirrel. A rifle 
bullet soon brought him down again; and his long 
body lay stretched out on the earth, emitting a strong 
odor of musk, that was quite disagreeable. 

“ On returning to the porcupine, — which our dogs 
took care not to meddle with, — we found the animal 
already better than half dead. The blood was run- 
ning from its throat, which the marten had torn 
open. Of course, we put the creature out of pain, 
by killing it outright ; and taking the marten along 
with us, for the purpose of skinning it, we returned 
homev/ard, leaving the elk hunt for another day. 

“ All this, as I have said, occurred afterwards, 
Let us now return to the narrative of our fishing ex 
cursion. 

“ As soon as the porcupine had been disposed of 
we were reminded of the sufferings of our dogs 
who had ceased their howling, but required to bfl 


BATTLE OF THE MARTEN AND PORCUPINE. 


relieved of the baroed spines with which thiir lips 
were sticking full. We drew them out as easilj' as 
we could ; but, notwithstanding this, their heads began 
to swell up to twice the natural size, and the poor 
brutes appeared to be in great pain. They were 
fairly Ished for their inconsiderate rashness ; and 
it was not likely that they would run their nosei 
agminst another porcupine for some time to come.** 


flOO THE CUNNING OLD “ ’cOOTn 

CHA.PTER XXXII. 

THE CUNNING OLD “’COON.” 

“ We now continued our journey towards our fish* 
ing ground, Cudjo having hung the porcupine to a 
tree, with the design of taking it home with him on 
our return. It was Cudjo’s intention to skin it, and 
eat part or the whole of it — a species of food which 
he assured us he had often eaten before, and which 
»sted equal to young pig. None of us were likely 
lo join Cudjo in such a meal ; but at all events, 
thought we, when the quills and skin are removed, 
our dogs might get a morsel of it as a reward for 
their sufferings. This was an object, certainly ; as, 
out of our scanty larder. Castor and Pollux did no' 
fare the best sometimes. 

“We soon arrived upon the bank of the creek 
and clcse to the pool. This was a long stretch of 
deep, dark water, with a high bank on one side, 
shadowed over with leafy trees. On the opposite 
side, the bank was low, and shelved down to the edge 
— while several logs lay along it, half covered with 
water and half of them stretching up against the 
bank 


30i 


THF CUNIh NG old “ ’cOON.” 

We took the high bank for our station, as upon 
this there was a spot of smooth, grassy turf, shaded 
by beautiful palmetto trees, where the children could 
tumble about. Here Mary sat down with them, 
while the rest of us proceeded to fish. Of course, we 
could do no more than throw in our lines, and then 
wait until the fish should be fools enough to bite. 
We conversed very quietly, lest the noise of our talk- 
ing should frighten the fish, though this was only an 
imagination of our own. We had not been watching 
our floats more than five minutes, when we noticed, 
here and there, a slight stir in the water ; and, in the 
midst of the little circles made by this, we could 
see small, black objects, not unlike the heads of 
snakes. At first, we took them for these. Cudjo, 
however, knew better than we what they were, for he 
had often seen them while fishing in the creeks of 
Virginia. 

“ ‘ Golly, Massa I ’ cried he, as soon as they made 
their appearance ; ‘ de creek here am full ob de 
turtle.’ 

“ ‘ Turtles ! ’ exclaimed Harry. 

“ ‘ Yes, Massa Harry,’ replied Cudjo ; ‘ and as dk 
nigga lib, de am de real soff-shell turtle ’ Dat’s de 
meat for dis child Cudjo, — better dan fish, flesh, 
fowl, or ’possum, — dat am de soff shell.’ 

“ As Cudjo spoke, one of the turtles ‘ bobbed ’ up 
nearly under where we sat ; and, from the elongated 


3C2 


THE CUNNING OLD “ 'COON. 


shape ot’ its head, resembling a snout, ana the flexibuj 
shell that bent up and down along its edges, as ht 
swam, I saw it was a species of trionyx ^ or soft' 
shelled turtle — in fact, it was that known as tricny* 
ferox^ the most prized of all the turtle race for the 
table of the epicure. Here, then, was another luxury 
for us, as soon as we could catch them. 

“ I turned round, and was on the point of asking 
Cudjo how this could be accomplished, when I saw 
that my float went suddenly down, and I felt a pull 
upon the line. I thought, of course, it was a fish, 
and commenced handling it ; but to my surprise, on 
bringing it to the surface, I perceived that I had 
hooked one of the turtles, and no doubt the same one 
which had looked up at us but a moment before. 
He was not a very large one, and we soon landed 
him ; when Cudjo secured him, simply by turning 
him over upon his back. As I learned from Cudjo, 
these creatures will eagerly bite at any thing that 
may be thrown into the water and appears strange to 
them. Of the truth of this, we had a curious demon- 
stration shortly afterwards. 

“ In a few minutes more, each of us had taken 
several good-sized fish, and we still continued watch- 
ing our rods in silence, when our attention was at- 
tracted to the movements of an animal upon the 
opposite bank, and about one hundred yards below 
wnere we sat. We were all well acquainted with 


THE CUNNING OLD “ ’cOON. 


303 


ilus hnimal ; and Harry, the moment he saw ii, 
whispered, — 

“ ‘ Look, papa ! mamma ! a ’coon I ’ 

“ Yes, it was a raccoon. There was no mistaking 
the broad, dark-brown back, the sharp, fox-looking 
face and snout, and the long, bushy tail, with its alter- 
nate rings of black and yellowish white. The short, 
thick legs, the erect ears, and tHe white and black 
marks of the face, were familiar to all of us — for 
the raccoon is one of the best-known animals in 
America, and we had it among our pets. 

“ At the sight of the ‘ ’coon,’ Cudjo’s eyes fairly 
glistened, for there is no animal that affords so much 
sport to the negroes of the United States as the ’coon ; 
and he is, therefore, to them as interesting a creature 
as the fox to the red-coated hunters of England. 
Hunting the raccoon is one of the principal amuse- 
ments which the poor slave enjoys, in the beautiful, 
moonlight nights of the Southern States, after he has 
got free from his hard toil. By them, too, the flesh 
of the ’coon is eaten, although it is not esteemed 
much of a dainty. The ’possum is held in far higher 
estimation. Cudjo’s eyes, then, glistened as soon as 
he set them upon his old and familiar victim. 

“ The ’coon all this while had seen none of us, else 
he would soon have widened the distance between us 
and iiimself. He was crawling cautiously along the 
hank of the creek nov^ hopping up on a log, and now 


804 THE CUNNING OLD “ ’cOON.” 

Stopping for a while, and looking earnestly into the 
water. 

De ole ’coon go to fish,’ whispered Cudjo ; * dat’a 
what he am after.’ 

“ ‘ Fish ? ’ said Harry. 

“ ‘ Yes, Massa Harry. He fish for de turtle.’ 

“ ‘ And how will he catch them } ’ inquired 'Harry. 

“ ‘ Golly, Massa Harry, he catch ’em. Wait ; you 
aee.’ 

“ We all sat quietly watching his manoeuvres, and 
curious to witness how he would catch the turtles; 
for none of us, with the exception of Cudjo, knew 
how. We knew that it was not likely he would leap 
at them in the water, for these animals can dive as 
quickly as a fish ; besides, they can bite very severely, 
and would be sure to take a piece out of the ’coon’s 
skin, should he attack them in their own element 
But that was not his intention, as we presently saw. 
Near the end of one of the logs that protruded into 
the water, we observed the heads of several turtles 
moving about on the surface. The raccoon saw them 
also, for he was stealthily approaching this log with 
his eyes fixed upon the swimming reptiles. On 
reaching it, he climbed upon it with great silence ard 
caution. He then placed his head between his fore 
legs, and, turning his tail towards the creek, com- 
menced crawling down the log, tail foremost. He 
proceeded slowly, bit by bit, until his long, bushy 


THE CUNNING OLD “ 'cOON. ” SOS 

tail huag over several inches into the water, where 
he caused it to move gently backwards and forwards. 
His body was rolled up into a sort of clew, until 
one could not have told what sort of a creature was 
on the log. 

“ He had not remained many moments in this atti> 
mde, when one of the tuj^tles, swimming abcut, caught 
sight of the moving tail, and, attracted partly by 
curiosity, and partly in hopes of getting something to 
eat, approached, and seized hold of the long hair in 
his horny mandibles. But he had scarce caught it, 
before the ’coon unwound himself upon the log ; and 
at the same time, with a sudden and violent jerk of 
his tail, plucked the turtle out of the water, and flung 
him high and dry upon the bank. Then following 
after, in three springs, he was beside his victim, 
which, with his long, sharp nose, he immediately 
turned over upon its back, taking care all the while 
to avoid coming in contact with the bill-like snout of 
the turtle. The latter was now at the mdrcy of the 
’coon, who was proceeding to demolish him in his 
usual fashion ; but Cudjo could stand it no longer, and 
away went he and the dogs, with loud shouts, across 
the creek. 

“ The chase was not a long one ; for, in a few 
seconds, the steady barking of the dogs told us that 
poor ‘coony’ was ‘treed.’ Unfortunately for him- 
self, be had run up a very low tree, where Cudjo was 
26 * 


AA 


306 


THE CVNNING OLD “ ’cOON.” 

able to reach him with his long spear ; and whan the 
rest of us got forward to the spot, we found thal 
Cudjo had finished him, and was holding him up by 
the tail, quite dead. 

“ We now went back to our fishing ; and although 
we caught no more of the turtles, we succeeded in 
taking as many fish as we wanted ; and, returning to 
the house, Mary cooked for us a most excellent fish 
dinner whic'.' we all ate with a keen appetite.” 


LITTLE MARY AND THE BEE. 


30 : 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

LITTLE MARY AND THE BEE. 

** Dvring the winter, we saw very little of oui 
beavers. Through the cold season, they lay snug in 
their houses — although not in a state of torpidity, 
as the beaver does not become torpid in winter. He 
only keeps within doors, and spends most of his time 
in eating and sleeping ; but he goes out of his house 
at Intervals, to wash and clean himself ; for the beaver 
is an animal of very precise habits. He is not com- 
pelled, however, to go abroad in search of food. As 
we have seen, he lays up a stock, which serves him 
throughout the cold season. 

“ For several weeks, in midwinter, the dam was 
frozen over, with ice strong enough to bear our 
weight ; and we visited the houses of the beavers, 
that stood up like so many haystacks. We found 
them so hard and firm, that we could climb upon 
them, and pounce down upon their tops, without the 
’east danger of breaking them in. In fact, it would 
have been any thing but an easy task to have opened 
one of them from above; and no animal --not even 


/ 


308 LITTLE MARY AND THE BEE. 

ihe wolverene, with his crooked claws — coulo have 
done it. We observed that, in every case, the doors 
were far below the ice, so that the entrance still 
remained open to the animals within ; and, more- 
over, when any one stamped heavily upon the roof, 
through the clear ice we could see the frightened 
creatu es making their escape, by darting off into the 
water. Sometimes we remained to see if they would 
return, but in no instance did they come back. At 
the time, we wondered at this — as we knew they 
could not possibly live under the ice, where there 
was no air. We soon found, however, that these 
cunning creatures knew what they were about, and 
that they had already provided means to escape from 
the danger of being drowned in this manner. Along 
one side of the dam there was a bank, that rose con- 
siderably above the water, and into this bank they had 
made large holes, or, as they are termed, ‘ washes.’ 
Th^e were so constructed that the entrances to them 
could not be frozen up ; and we found that, whenever 
the beavers were disturbed or frightened from their 
houses, they invariably betook themselves to these 
washes, where they could crawl quietly up above the 
surface of the water, and breathe in safety. 

“ This was the proper season to trap the beaver, 
as their fur is more valuable in winter than at any 
other time ; but, as I have already said, it was na 
our intention to disturb them, until they should be 


come very numerous. 


LITTLE MARY ANH THE BEE. 30fl 

rhs ice upon the dam was exceedingly smooth^ 
and, of course, suggested the idea of skates. Both 
Frank and Harry were very fond of this amusement, 
and, indeed, I was rather partial to it myself. 

Skates, then, must be had, at all cost ; and again 
we had recourse to the hois d'^arc^ the wood of which 
was sufficiently light and compact for our purpose. 
Cudjo, with his hammer and a good hickory fire, soon 
drew out the shoeing for them, making it very thin — 
as our stock of iron consisted in what we had taken 
from the body of the wagon, and was, of course, very 
precious, and not to be wasted upon articles designed 
merely for amusement. However, we knew it would 
not be lost upon the skates ; and we could take it 
from them, whenever we should want to apply it to a 
more useful purpose. In a short time, we had three 
pairs ; and, strapping them firmly to our feet with 
strips of deer skin, were soon gliding over the dam, 
and spinning around the beaver houses, no doubt to 
the great wonderment of such of the animals as came 
out under the ice to look at us. Mary, with Cudjo 
and the children, stood watching us from the shore, 
and clapping their hands with delight. 

“With these and such like -innocent recreations, 
we passed the winter very agreeably. It was but a 
very short winter ; and as soon as the spring returned, 
Cudjo with his wooden plough, turned up our little 
field, and we planted our corn. It occupied nearly 


310 


f.jTLLE MARY AND TlliS BEE 


an acre of ground; and wo had now the pleaak*n 
prospect that, in six weeks’ time, we should gather 
about fifty bushels. We did not neglect our hundred 
grains of wheat, but sowed that carefully in a cornel 
by itself. You may fancy that it did not take up 
much ground. Mary had also her garden, with beds 
of wild potatoes, and other roots, which she had dis- 
covered in the valley. One of these was the species 
of turnip already mentioned as the pomme-blanche , 
or Indian turnip. She had found wild onions too, 
which proved of great service in soup-making. In 
her garden were many others, of which I only know 
the names ; but three of them, the ‘ kamas^’ the 
‘ kooyah,’ and ‘ yampah ’ roots are worth mentioning, 
as thousands of the miserable Indians who inhabit the 
American Desert subsist chiefly on them. The widely- 
scattered tribes known as the ‘Diggers’ take their 
name from the fact of their digging for, and living 
upon, these roots. 

The flowers now came out in full bloom ; and 
some of the openings near the upper end of the 
valley were a sight to behold. They were literally 
covered with beautiful blossoms — malvas^ cleomes 
asclepias^ and helianthi. We frequently visited this 
pait, making picnic excursions to all the pfaces of 
note in our little dominion. The cataract where the 
stream dashed over the cliff, the salt spring, and 
such like places, formed points of interest ; and we 


LITTLE MAKV AND THE BEE. 


311 


rarely failed in any of these excursions to draw some 
useful lesson from the school of nature. Indeed, 
Mary and I frequently designed them, for the pur- 
pose of instructing our children in such of the natural 
sciences as we ourselves knew. We had no books, 
and we illustrated our teachings by the objects 
around us. 

“ One day we had strayed up, as usual, among tha 
openings. It was very early in the spring, just as 
the flowers were beginning to appear. We had sat 
down to rest ourselves in the middle of a glade, sur- 
rounded by beautiful magnolias. There was a bed 
of large blue flowers close by ; and Frank, taking 
little Mary by the hand, had gone in among them to 
gather a bouquet for his mother. All at once the 
child uttered a scream, and then continued to cry 
loudly. Had she been bitten by a snake Alarmed 
at the thought, we all started to our feet, and ran for 
the spot. The little creature still cried — holding 
out her hand, which we at once perceived was the 
seat of the pain. The cause of it was evident — she 
had been stung by a bee. No doubt she had clasped 
a flower upon which some bee had been making hia 
hiuisy and the angry insect had punished such a iude 
intorference with his pleasures. 

“ As soon as the child had been pacified by a 
soothing application to the wound, a train of reflec- 
tion occurred to the minds of aU of us. ‘ There are 


0 


312 LITTLE MARY AND THE BEE. 

bees, then, in the place,’ said we. We nad no^ 
known this fact before. In the autumn^ previous we 
had been too busy with other things to notice them 
and, of course, during the winter season they were no 
to be seen. They were just now coming out for the 
early spring flowers > 

. “ It was natural to infer, that, where there were 
bees, there should also be honey ; and the word 
' honey ’ had a magic sound in the ears ot our little 
community Bees and honey now became the topic 
of conversation ; and not a sentence was uttered for 
some minutes that did not contain an allusion to 
bees, or bees’ nests, or bee trees, or bee hunters, or 
honey. 

“ We all scattered among the flowers to assure 
ourselves that it really was a bee, and not some 
rascally wasp, that had wounded our little Mary. 
If it was a bee, we should find some of his com- 
panions roaming about among the blossoms of the 
helianthus. 

“ In a short time, Harry was heard crying out, ‘ A 
bee ! a bee ! ’ and almost at the same instant Frank 
shouted, ‘ Another! ’ ‘ Hya I *hya 1 ’ cried Cudjo, 

‘ hyar’s de oder one — see ’im ! — biz-z-z. Gollier* I 
how he am loaded with de wax ! ’ 

“Two or three others were now discovered, all 
busily plying their industrious calling, and proving 
that there was one hive, at least, in some part of-thf 
.•alley. 


\ 


LITTLE MARY AND TME BEE. 


313 


* The qaestion now arose, how this hive was to be 
found. No doubt it was in some hollow tree — but 
how were we to find this tree, standing as it likely 
did among hundreds of others, and not differing from 
the rest in appearance ? This was the question that 
puzzled us. 

“ It did not puzzle all of us, though. Fortunately, 
there chanced to be a bee hunter among us, a real 
old bee hunter, and that individual was our famous 
Cudjo. Cudjo had ‘ treed ’ bees many’s the time in 
the woods of ‘ Ole Vaginny,’ and cut down the trees 
too, and licked the honey — for Cudjo was as sweet 
upon honey as a bear. Yes, Cudjo had ‘ treed ’ bees 
many’s the time, and knew how — that did Cudjo. 

“ We should have to return to the house, however, 
to enable him to make ready his implements ; and as 
the day was now pretty far advanced, we de.ermined 
to leave our bee hunting for the morrow.” 

2*7 BB 


A .GRAND BEE HUNT 


I 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

A GRAND BEE HUNT 

“Next day we had a warm, sunsh Jiy day-— just 
BJJch a one as would bring the bees out. Aftei 
breakfast, we all set forth for the openings, in high 
-spirits at the prospect of the sport we should have. 
Harry was more eager than any of us. He had 
heard a good deal about bee hunters, and was very 
desirous of knowing how they pursued their craft 
He could easily understand how, when a bee tree was 
once found, it could be cut down with an axe, and 
split open, and the honey taken from it. . All this 
would be very easily done. But hov/ were bee trees 
found .? That was the puzzle, for, as I have before 
observed, these trees do not differ in appearance from 
others around them ; and the hole by which the bees 
enter is usually so high up, that one cannct see these 
little insects from the ground; One might tell it to be 
a bee’s nest, if his attention were called to it; for the 
bar^ around the entrance, like that of the squirrel’s, 
iS always discolored, in consequence of the bees 
H.ighting upon it with their moist feet. But then, 


A GRAND BEE HLNT. 


315 


one may travel a long while through the woods before 
chancing to notice this. Bee trees are sometimes 
found by accident ; but the regular bee hunter does 
not depend upon this, else his calling would be a veiy 
uncertain one. There is no accident in the way he 
goes to work. He seeks for the nest, and is almost 
sure to find it — provided the ground be open enough 
to enable him to execute his manoeuvres. I may here 
remark, that, wherever bees take up their abode, there 
IS generally open tracts in their neighborhood, or else 
flower-bearing trees — since in very thick woods, 
under the deep, dark shadow of the foliage, flowers 
are more rare, and consequently the food of the bees 
more difficult to be obtained. These creatures love 
.he bright glades and sunny openings, often met with 
in the prairie forests of the wild west. 

“ Well, as I have said, we were all eager to witness 
how our bee hunter, Cudjo, would set about finding 
the bee tree — for up to this time he had kept the 
secret to himself, to the great tantalization of Harry, 
whose impatience had now reached its maximum 
of endurance. The implements which Cudjo had 
ucught along with him — or, as he called them, the 
fixlns' — were exceedingly simple in their character. 
They consisted of a drinking glass, — fortunately, we 
jad one that had travelled safely in our great mess 
jhest, — a cupful of maple molasses, and a few tufl.s 
of white wool taken from the tail of a rabbit. ‘ Ho'.> 


H16 


A GRAND BEE HUNT. 


was he going to use these things? ’ thought Harry, and 
so did we all — for none of us knew any thing of the 
process, and Cudjo seemed determined lo keep quiet 
about his plans, until he should give us a practical 
illustration of them. 

“At length we arrived at the glades, and entered 
one of the largest of them, where we halted. Pompo 
was taken from the cart, and picketed upon the grass ; 
and we all followed Cudjo, observing every move- 
ment that he made. Harry’s eyes were on him like 
a lynx, for he feared lest Cudjo might go through ^ 
some part of the operation without his seeing or 
understanding it. He watched him, therefore, as 
closely as if Cudjo had been a conjurer and was 
about to perform some trick. The latter said nothing, 
but went silently to work — evidently not a little 
proud of his peculiar knowledge, and the interest 
which he was exciting by it. 

“ There was a dead log near one edge of the open- 
ing. To this the bee hunter proceeded, and, drawing 
out his knife, scraped off a small portion of the rough 
bark, so as to render the surface smcoth and even 
Only a few square inches . of the log were thus 
polished and levelled. That would be enough for his 
purpose Upon the spot thus prepared, he pourea 
out a quantity of the molasses, — a small quantity, — 
forming a little circle about the size of a penny piece. 
He next took the glass, and w’ped it with the skir 


A GJJ :w BEE HTTNT. 


3n 

of his coal, un'il U was a? clear as a diamond 
He then proceeded omonsr the flowers in search of 
II bee. 

“ One was soon discovered nestling upon :ac 
blossom of a helianthus. Cudio approached it stealth- 
ily, and, with an adroit movement, inverted the 
glass upon it, so as to enclose both bee and flower ; 
at the same instant one of his hands — upon which 
was a strong buck-skin glove — was slipped under the 
mouth of the glass, to prevent the bee from getting 
)ui ; and nipping the flower stalk between his fingers, 
ne bore off both the bee and the blossom. 

“ On arriving at the log, the flower was taken out 
of the glass by a dexterous movement, and thrown 
away. The bee still remained, buzzing up against 
me bottom of the glass — which, of course, was now 
the top, for Cudjo had held it all the while inverted 
.m bis palm. The glass was then set upon the log, 
^uoutn downwards, so as to cover the ' ittle spot of 
molasses ; and it was thus left, while we all stood 
around to watch it. 

“ The bee, still frightened by his captivity, for some 
time kept circling around the upper part of the glass 
— seeking, very naturally, for an egress in direc- 
tion. His whirring wings, however, soon came in 
contact with the top of the vessel, and he was flung 
down right into the molasses. There was not enough 
of the ‘treacle’ to hold him fast, but, having omw 
* 


318 A 3RANI) BEE HUNT. 

taste<l of ts sweets, he showed no disposition to leave 
it. On the contrary, he seemed to forget all at once 
that he was a captive ; and, thrusting his proboscis 
into the honeyed liquid, he set about drinking it like 
a good fellow. 

“ Cudjo did not molest him until he had fairly 
goiged himself; then, drawing him gently aside with 
the rim of the glass, he separated him from his ban- 
quet. He had removed his gloves, and cautiously 
inserting his naked hand, he caught the bee — which 
was now somewhat heavy and stupid — between his 
thumb and forefinger. He then raised it from the 
log, and turning it breast upward, with his other 
hand he attached a small tuft of the rabbit wool to 
the legs of the insect. The glutinous paste with 
which its thighs were loaded enabled him to effect 
this the more easily. The wool, which was exceed- 
ingly light, was now ‘ flaxed out,’ in order to make it 
show as much as possible, while, at the same time, 
It was so arranged as not to come in contact with the 
wings of the bee and hinder its flight. All this did 
Cudjo with an expertness which surprised us, and 
would have surprised any one who was a stranger to 
the craft of the bee hunter. He performed every 
operation with great nicety, taking care not to crip- 
ple the insect; and, indeed, he did not injure it in 
the least — for Cudjo’s fingers, although none of the 
Bmallest, were as delicate in the touch as thase of i 
fine lady. 


A GRAND BEE HUNT. 


319 


* When ever} thing was arranged, he placed the 
bee upon the log again, laying it down very gently. 

“ The little creature seemed quite astounded at 
the odd treatment which he was receiving, and for a 
few seconds remained motionless upon the log ; but 
a warm sunbeam glancing down upon it, soon restored 
It to its senses ; and, perceiving that it was once more 
free, it stretched its translucent wings, and rose sud- 
denly into the air. It mounted straight upward, to 
a height of thirty or forty feet, and then commenced 
circling around, as we could see by the white wool 
that streamed after it. 

“ It was now that Cudjo’s eyes rolled in good ear- 
nest. The pupils seemed to be dilated to twice their 
usual size, and the great balls appeared to tumble 
about in their sockets, as if there was nothing to 
hold them. His head, too, seemed to revolve, as if his 
short, thick neck had been suddenly converted into a 
well-greased pivot, and endowed with rotary motion. 

“ After making several circles through the air, the 
nscct darted off for the woods. We followed it with 
our eyes as long as we could ; but the white tuft was 
soon lost in the distance, and we saw no more of it. 
We noticed that it had gone in a straight line, which 
the oee always follows when returning loaded to his 
hive — hence an expression oft3n heard in western 
America, the ‘ bee line,’ and which has its synonyme 
in England in the phrase, ‘ as the crow flies.’ Cudjo 
I new it would keep on in this .ine until it had reached 


m 


a' GRAND BEE HUNT. 


the tree where its nest was ; consequently, he wan 
now in possession of one link in chain of his dis^ 
covery — the direction of the hee tree from the point 
where we stood. 

“ But would this be enough to enable him to find 
i* ^ Evidently not. The bee might stop on the veiy*' 
edge of the woods, or it might go twenty yards be 
yond, or fifty, or perhaps a quarter of a mile, with 
out coming to its tree. It was plain, then, to all cl 
us, that the line in which the tree lay was not enough, 
as without some other guide one mighv have searched 
along this line for a week without finding the nest. • 

“ All this knew Cudjo before ; and, of cour^^ 
he did not stop a moment to reflect upon it then 
He had carefully noted the direction taken by the 
insect, which he had as carefully ‘ marked ’ by the 
trunk of a tree which grew on the edge of the 
glade, and in the line of the bee’s flight. Another 
‘ mark ’ was still necessary to record the latter and 
make things sure. To do this, Cudjo stooped down, 
and with his knife cut an oblong notch upon the 
bark of the log, which pointed lengthwise in the direc- 
tion the bee had taken. . This he executed w’tb 
great precision. He next proceeded to the tree 
which he had used as a marker, and^‘ blazed ' it 
with his axe. 

‘ What next .* thought we. Cudjo was not long 
m showing us what was to be next. Another log 
)H’as selected, at a point at least two hundred yards 


A GRAND BEE HUNT. 


32 


iistanl fiom tne former one. A portion of rhis 
was scraped m a similar manner, and mola^es 
poured upon the clear spot as before. Another boe 
was caught, imprisoned under the glass, fed, hoppled 
with wool, and then let go again. To our astonish- 
ment. this one flew off in a direction nearly c’ppo* 
site to that taken by the former. 

“ ‘ Neber mind,’ said CudjOy‘so much de better 
— two bee tree better than one.’ 

“ Cudjo market! the direction which the latter had 
taksn, precisely as he had done with the other. 

‘ Without changing the log, a third bee was caught 
and ‘ put through.’ This one took a new route, dif 
ferent from either of his predecessors. 

“ ‘ Gollies ! Massa ! ’ cried Cudjo ; ‘ dis valley am 
full ob honey. Three bee trees at one stand ! ’ And 
he again made his record upon the log. 

“ A fourth bee was caught, and, after undergoing 
the ceremony, let go again. This one evidently 
belonged to the same hive as the first, for we sav 
that it flew towards the same point in the wcx)ds 
The direction was carefully noted as before. A cle\ 
was now found to the whereabouts of one hive — 
that of the Jirst and fourth bees. That was enough fc. 
the present. As to the second and third, the recorfs 
which Cudjo had marked against them would stand 
good for the morrow or any other day; and he pro^ 
coedcd to complete the ‘ him ’ after the nest of Nos 
1 nnd 4. 


322 


A GRAND BfiE HUNT. 


“ We had ail by this time acquired an insigh, 
ialo the meaning of Cudjo’s manoeuvres, and we were 
able to assist him. The exact point wher(3 the bee 
tree grew was now determined. It stood at the poin> 
where the two lines made by bees Nos. 1 and 4 
met each other. It would be found at the very apex 
of this angle — wherever it was. But that was the 
next difficulty — to get at this point. There would 
have been no difficulty about it, had the ground been 
open, or so that we could have seen to a sufficient 
distance through the woods. This could have been 
easily accomplished by two of us stationing ourselves, 
_ — one at each of the two logs, — while a third indi- 
vidual moved along either of the lines. The moment 
this, third person should appear on both lines at 
once, he would of course be at the point of inter- 
section ; and at this point the bee tree would be found. 
’ shall explain this by a diagram. 



ivhi<’,h ♦'^e bees Nos. 1 and 4 had respectively taken 


A jRAND BEE HUNT. 


323 


iheii ilight ; and suppose A B and C B to be the 
directions in which they had gone. If they went di- 
rectly home, — which it was to be presumed they both 
did, — they would meet at their nest at some point B 
This point could not be discovered by seeing the 
bees meeting at it, for they were already lost sight 
of at short distances from A and C. But without 
this, had the ground been clear of timber, we could 
easily have found it in the following manner : I 
should have placed myself at log A, while Cudjo 
stationed himself at C. We should then have sent 
one of the boys — say Harry — along the line A D. 
This, you must observe, is a fixed line, for D was 
already a marked point. After reaching D, Harry 
should continue on, keeping in the same line. The 
moment, therefore, that he came under the eye 
of Cudjo, — who would be all this while glancing 
along C E, also a fixed line, — he would then be on 
both lines at once, and consequently at their point of 
intersection. This, by all the laws of bee hunting, 
w'ould be the place to find the nest ; and, as I have 
said, we could easily havj found it thus, had it nol 
lieen for the trees. But these intercepted our view, 
and therein lay the difficulty ; for the moment Harry 
should have passed the point D, where the underwood 
began, he would have been lost to our sight, and, of 
course, of no further use in establishing the point B. 

“ For myself. I could .lot see clearly how this 


324 


A GRAND BEE HUNT, 


difficulty vvas to be got over — as the woods beyonfl 
D and E were thick and tangled. The thing was no 
puzzle to Cudjo, however. He knew a way of find* 
ing B, and the bee tree as well, and he went about it 
at once. 

“ Placing one of the boys at the station A, so 
that he could see him over the grass, he shouldered 
his axe, and moved off* along the line AD. He * 
entered the woods at D, and kept on until he had 
found a tree from which both A and D were visible, 
and which lay exactly in the same line. This tree 
he ‘ blazed.’ He then moved a little farther, and 
blazed another, and another, — all on the continuation 
of the line A D, — until we could hear him chopping 
away at a good distance in the woods. Presently he 
returned to the point E ; and, calling to one of us 
to stand for a moment at C, he commenced ‘ blazing’ 
backwards, on the continuation of C E. We now 
joined him — as our presence at the logs was no 
longer necessary to his operations. 

'‘At a distance of about two hundred yards from 
the edge* of the glade, the blazed lines were seen to 
approach each other. There were several very large 
trees at this point. Cudjo’s ‘ instinct ’ told him, that 
in one of these the bees had their nest. He flung 
down his axe at length, and rolled his eyes upwards. 
We all took part in the search, and ga/.ed up, <^rying 


A GBAND BEE HUNT, 


326 


.o discover the little insects that, no doubt, were 
winging their way among the high branches. 

“ In a few moments, however, a loud and joyful 
exclamation from Cudjo proclaimed that the hunt 
was over — the bee tree was found ! 

“ True enough, there was the nest, or the en- 
trance that led to it, away high up on a giant syca 
more. We could see the discoloration on the bark, 
caused by the. feet of the bees, and even the little 
creatures themselves crowding out and in. It was 
a large tree, with a cavity at the bottom big enough 
lo have admitted a full-sized man, and, no doubt, 
hollow up to the place where the bees had con- 
structed their nest. 

“ As we had spent many hours in finding it, and 
the day was now well advanced, we concluded to 
leave further operations for the morrow, when we 
should fell it, and procure the delicious honey. With 
this determination, and well satisfied with ou? day’s 
amusement, we returned to our house.” 

28 


326 


A RIVAL HONEY ROBBER- 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A RIVAL HONEY ROBBER 

“New there weie some circumstances to be con- 
sidered, before we could proceed any further in the 
matter of the bees. How were we to get at the 
honey? ‘Why, by felling the tree, and splitting it 
open, of course,’ you will say. Well, that would 
have to be done, too; but there was still another 
consideration. It is no very difficult matter to fell a 
tree, and split it up, — that is, when one has a good 
axe, — but it is a very different affair to take the 
honeycombs from some eight or ten thousand bees, 
every one of them with a sharp sting in his tail. We 
had no brimstone ; and if we had had such a thing, 
they were well out of the reach of it, while the tree 
stood ; and after it should be felled, we could not 
approach them. They would then be furious to a 
certainty. 

“ But Cudjo’s knowledge of bee hunting extended 
further than to the mere finding of the tiee. He 
knew, also, how to humbug the bees, and rob them of 
their sweet honey. That was a part of the pi^r- 


A R/VaL honey robber. 


32 ') 


formance that Cudjo undei*stood as well as any other. 
According to his directions, then, two pairs of stout 
buck-skin gloves were prepared. We chanced to have 
one pair already, and Mary soon stitched up a second, 
of the kind generally used for weeding thistles — 
that is, having only a thumb, and a place for all the 
fingers together. One pair of the gloves Cudjo in- 
tended to use himself — the other was for me. Of 
course, the rest were to take no part in the robbery, 
but only to stand at a safe distance and look on. 

“ In addition to the gloves, a couple of masks were 
cut out of elk hide, and with strings fitted to our 
faces. These, with our thick deer-skin overcoats 
would protect us against the stings of all the bees 
in creation. 

“ Thus accoutred, then, or rather taking these 
articles along with us, we set out for the bee tree. 
Of course, every body went as usual. We took with 
us the axe to cut down the tree, and several vessels 
to hold the honey. 

“ On arriving at the glade, we loosed Pompo out 
of the cart, and picketed him as we had done the 
day before. It would not do to bring him any nearer 
the scene of action, as the bees might take a fancy to 
revenge themself es by stinging him. Wo then took 
our fixings’ from the cart, and proceeded to the 
tree. In a few moments, we stood by its foot. 

“ On looking up, we observed that there was an 


A RIVAL HONh ROBBER. 


328 

unusual commotion among the oees. They wera 
whirring in large numbers around the entrance of 
their nest, and swarming out and in. As the da^ 
was very still, we could hear them buzzing loudly. 
What could it mean? Were they going to hive? 

Cudjo thought not. It was too early in tha 
season for that. And yet their actions were strange. 
He could not understand it. 

“ ‘ Dey look, Massa,’ said he, after gazing at them 
for some moments — ‘ dey look zackly like some var- 
mint war a-vexin’ oh ’em.’ 

“ So did they, but no ‘ varmint ’ appeared to be 
near their hole ; and no animalj however thick in 
the skin, would have ventured into it, as we thought. 
The orifice was not over three inches in diameter, 
and we knew that neither squirrel, marten, nor weasel 
would have dared to put a nose into it. What, then, 
could have so excited them ? 

“We observed that it was a warm day, — the 
warmest we had had up to that time, — and probably 
the heat- had set them a-going. With this explana 
tion, therefore, in the absence of a better, we re- 
mained satisfied, and commenced making our prepa 
rations to fell the tree. 

“ It was not likely to be a difficult job. The tree 
as I have said, was a hollow one; and near tht 
ground its trunk was nothing but a more shell, whici 
we could easily cut through So Cudjo went lustilj 


A RIVAI HONEY ROBBER. 


329 


X) work with his axe ; and the white sycaraore chips 
were soon flying in every direction. 

“ He had hardly made a dozen strokes, wheir 
we were startled by a singular noise, that sounded 
something like a ‘ cross ’ between a growl, and a 
snort. 

“ Cudjo immediately suspended his blows ; and wo 
all stood gazing at each other with looks that be- 
tokened surprise and terror. I say terror — for the 
noise had something terrible in it ; and we knew it 
could have proceeded from nothing else than some 
large and fierce animal. Whence did it come } — 
from the woods We looked anxiously around us, 
out no motion could be observed in the bramble. 
The underwood was thin ; and we could have seen 
a large animal at some distance, had such been 
there. 

“ Again the horrid sound echoed in our ears. It 
appeared to issue out of the earth ! No — it came 
out of the tree ! 

“‘Golly !’ exclaimed Cudjo; ‘it am a bar. Masse 
Roff! I know him growl.’ 

“ * A bear ! ’ I ejaculated, catching the thought at 
the same moment. ‘ A bear in the bee tree ! Run, 
Mary! run for the glade!’ — and I hurried my wife 
and children from the spot. Harry and Frank both 
wished to remain with their rifles, and I could hardlji 
get them off. I induced them to go, af length, by 
28* cc 


330 


A RIVAL HONEY ROBBER. 


telling them that they must stay near their mothei 
and the little ones, to guard them in case the animal 
should come that way. All this occupied but a few 
seconds of time, and ihen Cudjo and I were left tf- 
ourselves 

“ It wa3 evident that a bear was up the hollow of 
the tree, and hence the flurry among the bees. 
Cudjo’s axe had disturbed him — he was coming 
down ! 

“ What was to be done ? Could we not close up 
the hole ? No — there was nothing — we should be 
too late ! 

“ I seized my rifle, while Cudjo stood by with his 
axe. I cocked the piece, and made ready to fire the 
moment his head should appear. To our astonish- 
ment, instead of a head, a shapeless mass of shaggy, 
black hair made its appearance, which we saw was 
the rump and hind quarters of the animal. He was 
coming down tail foremost — although not a bit of 
tail was to be seen, for he had none. 

“ We did not stop to examine that. I fired as soon 
as his hips made their appearance, and almost at the 
same instant Cudjo dealt them a hearty blow with 
his^axe. It was enough to have killed him, as we 
thought ; but to our surprise, the hind quarters sud- 
denly disappeared. He had gone up the tree again. 

“ What next ? Would he turn himself in the 
holiow, and come down head foremost.? If so, my 


A RIVAL HONEY ROBBER. 


331 


rifle WAS »3mpty, and Cudjo night miss his blow ani 
let him pass out. 

“ All at once, my eye fell upon the two great deer- 
skin coats that were lying on the ground close by, 
They would be large enough, properly rcled, lo fill 
the mouth of the cavity. I threw aside my rifle, 
and laid hold of them. Cudjo assisted me. In a 
second or two, we had gathered them into a hard 
‘clump,’ and wedged them into the hole. They 
fitted it exactly. ' 

“ We saw blood streaming down as we stuffed in 
the coats. The bear was wou ided. It was no< 
ikely, then, that he would trouble us for a while 
and as one watched the coats, the other brought up 
great stones, which we piled against them, until we 
had made all secure. 

“We now ran around the tree, looking up the 
trunk, to assure ourselves that there was no opening 
above through which he might creep out and come 
down upon us. No, there was none, except the 
bee hole, and that was not big enough for his nose, 
sharp as it -was. Bruin was fairly ‘ in the trap.’ 

“ I knew that Mary and the rest would be uneasy 
about us ; and I ran out to the glade to make known 
our success. The boys cheered loudly ; and we all 
returned together to the tree, as there was now no 
danger — no more than if there hadn’t beer a beai 
nenrer to us than the North Pole. 


A RIVAL HONEY ROBBER. 

“ We had him now, so that there was no fear of 
his escaMng. But how were we to get at him? — 
for we had determined to take his life. Such a 
fierce creature as this must not be allowed to get off; 
as he would soon have settled with one of us, had he 
met us on any thing like equal terms. I had thought, 
at first, he might be a grisly bear, and this had 
terrified me the more — for the killing of one of 
these fierce animals with a shot is next to an impos- 
sibility. When I reflected, however, I knew it could 
not be this ; for the ‘ grisly,’ unlike his sable cousin. 
Is not a tree climber. It was the black bear, then, 
tnat we had got in the tree. 

“ But how were we to reach him ? Leave him 
where he was, and let him starve to death? No, 
that would never do. He would eat all the fine 
stock of honey ; if, indeed, he had not done so 
already. Moreover, he might scrape his way out, 
by enlarging the bee hole. This he could do with 
his great, sharp claws. We must therefore adopt 
some other plan. 

“ It occurred to us that it was just probable he 
might be down at the bottom, poking his nose against 
the coats. We could not tell, for there was no 
longer any growling. He was either too angry, or 
too badly scared, to growl — we could not say which. 
At all events, he was not uttering a sound. He 
might, nevertheless, be as close to us at the momem 


A RJVAL HONEY ROBBER. 


333 


as he coula get. If so, our plan would be to cuf 
a small hole in the tree above him, so that wo 
Alight reach him with a bullet from the rifle. This 
plan was adopted, and Cudjo set to work to make 
the hole. 

“ In a few minutes, the thin shell was penetrated, 
and we could see into the cavity. Bruin was no- 
where visible — he was still up the tree. The ‘ taste 
of our quality,’ which he had had on his first descent, 
had evidently robbed him of all inclination to try a 
second. What next ? 

“ ‘ Smoke ’im ! ’ cried Cudjo ; ‘ dat fotch ’im 
down.’ 

“ The very thing ; but how were we to do it ? 
By pushing dead leaves and grass through the hole 
Cudjo had cut, and then setting them on fire. But 
our coats — they might be burnt. These we could 
fii’st remove, putting great stones in their place; 
and we proceeded to do so. In a few minutes, that 
was accomplished ; the grass and leaves were stuffed 
in ; some tufts were set on fire and thrust through ; 
more rubbish was piled on top, until it reached up 
on a level with the hole ; and then the hole was 
closed with a bundle of grass, so as to prevent the 
smoke from escaping. 

“ In a few moments, we saw that every thing 
was progressing as we had intended it. A blue rope 
of smoke came oozing out of the bee hole and the 


334 


A RIVAL HONEY ROBBER. 


err fied bees swarmed out in clusters. Wd had 
not thought of this before, else we might have saved 
ourselves the trouble of making the gloves and 
masks. 

“Bruin’ now began to give tongue. We could 
hear him, high up the tree, snarling and growling 
fiercely. Every now and then he uttered a loud 
snort, that sounded .very like* an asthmatic cough. 
After a while, his growls changed into a whine, then 
a hideous moan, and then the sounds ceased alto- 
gether. The next moment we heard a dull concus- 
sion, as of a heavy body falling tr the earth. We 
knew it was the bear, as he tumbled from his perch. 

“ We waited for some minutes. There was no 
longer any stir — no .sound issued from the tree. 
We removed the grass from the upper hole. A thick 
volume of smoke rolled out. The bear must be 
dead. No creature could live in such an atmosphere. 
I introduced my ramrod through the opening. 1 
could feel the soft, hairy body of the animal, but it 
was limber and motionless. It was dead. Feeling 
convinced of this, at length, we removed the rocks 
below, and dragged it forth. Yes, the bear was dead 
— or, at all events, very like it; but, to make the 
thing sure, Cudjo gave him a knock on the head with 
his axe. His long, shaggy hair was literally filled 
with dead and dying bees, that, like himself, had been 
sufibcated with the smoke, and had fallen from theii 
combs. _ 


A RIVAL HONEY ROBBER. 


835 


We had hardly settled the question of the bear* 
when our attention was called to another circum- 
stance, which was likely to trouble us. We perceived 
that the tree was on fire. The decayed heartwood 
that lined the cavity inside had caught fire from the 
blazing grass, and was now crackling away like fury. 
Our honey would be lost ! 

“ This was a grievous finale^ after all — in short, a 
complete disappointment to our hopes, for we had 
calculated on having honey on our table at supper. 

“ What could we do to save it } But one thing, 
that was evident — cut down the tree as quickly as 
possible, and then cut it through again between the 
fire and the bees’ nest. 

“ Should we have time for all this } The fire was 
already high up ; and the draught, since we had 
opened the holes below, whizzed up the cavity, as 
through a funnel. 

“ Seeing this, we closed them again ; and Cudjo 
went to work with his axe, cutting all around the 
tree. And the way he did ply that axe ! he seemed 
to have a wager against time. It was beautiful to 
see the style in which the chips flew. 

“ At length the tree began to crack, and we all 
stood out from it, e.xcept Cudjo, who understood 
which way it would fall, and was not afraid of being 
crushed. Not he ; for Cudjo could ‘ lay ’ a tree 
wherever it was wanted, to the breadth of a hair 


336 


A RIVAL HONEY ROBBER. 


“ * Cr-r-r-ack ! — cr-r-r-r-ash ! ’ said -the great syca 
more ; and down it came, shivering its branches into 
a hundred sticks as it fell. 

“ It had scarcely touched the ground, when we sav(^ 
Cudjo attack it at another point with his axe, as 
rhough it were some great monster, and he waa 
trying to cut off its head. 

“ In a few minutes more, he had laid open the 
cavity, close to the combs ; and, to our great satis- 
faction, we saw that the fire- had not yet reached 
them. They were well smoked, however, and com- 
pletely deserted by the bees ; so that we used nei- 
ther the masks nor gloves in gathering the honey. 
Bruin had been before us ; but he had not been long 
at his meal when we intruded upon him, as only one 
or two of the combs were missing. Enough was left. 
It was evidently a very old hive, and there was honey 
enough to fill all the vessels we had brought with us. 

“We bundled the bear into the cart, — as both 
his hams and skin were worth the trouble, — and 
leaving the old sycamore to burn out, we turned oui 
faces liorneward.’ 






THE BATTLE OF THE BUCKS. 


387 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE BATTLE OF THE BUCKS. 

The main object we had in view was not yet 
accomplished. With the exception of our flock of 
turkeys, none of the pets we* had tamed could co 
tribute to our support. We wished to capture some 
of the deer species, and for this purpose we had 
thought of various expedients. We had seen the 
fawns once or twice following their mothers ; but we 
had failed in coming up'^ ’th them, although we had 
made several ’ ting excursions for that purpose. 
At length, however, instead of a fawn, we very unex- 
pectedly captured a couple of old bucks , of the red 
deer species. The circumstances of this capture 
were somewhat singular; and I shall detail them 
minutely as they occurred. 

“ We had gone out one day, Harry and myself, in 
search of the deer, and in hopes that we might be 
able to start and run down a fawn with the dogs Cas- 
tor and Pollux. For this we had muzzled both, so 
that they should not tear the fawn when they came 
up with it, as I had often seen greyhounds muzzled at 
29 


S38 THE BATTLE OF'IHE BUCKS 

home for the same purpose. We went up the valley 
where we would be most likely to fall in with the 
objects of our search ; but not knowing how soon a 
deer might start out of the bushes, we walked along 
very silently and slowly, watching the woods before 
us, and listening to every sound. At length we 
arrived near the edge of a small opening, as we could 
tell by the clear breaks through the branches. It was 
in these glades or openings that we usually fell in 
with the deer ; and we advanced with increased cau 
tion, each of us holding a dog in the leash which we 
had made for them. All at once a singular noise 
reached our ears, evidently coming from the glade 
It sounded as if several large animals were stamping 
furiously over the firm turf ; but in the midst of this 
there was a constant cracking of some hard sub- 
stances, as if half a dozen men were playing with 
eagerness at the game of singlestick. Every now 
and then we could hear a strange sound, short and 
fierce, like the snorting of a horse. Of course, Harry 
and I stopped in our tracks the moment we first 
heard these singular noises. Our dogs cocked theii 
ears, and wanted to spring forward ; but we held 
them both tightly on their strings, while we listened. 
For the life of us, neither I nor my companion could 
guess what was going on in the glade. 

“ ‘ What can it be, papa ? ’ said Harry. 

' ' ‘ I haven’t the slightest idea.’ replied L 


rn£ BATTLE OF THE BUCKS. 


P39 


it must be animals,’ said he ; ‘ and a good man}; 
&f them, too, to make so much stamping. Papa, ia 
not that the snort of a deer ? I think I have heard 
deer make just such a noise.’ 

“ ‘ May be it is. Perhaps it may be e.k ; but 
what can cause such a commotion among them, I 
wonder } ’ 

“ ‘ What think you,’ suggested Harry, ‘ if they arc 
fighting with some animal — a panther, or perhaps b 
bear } ’ 

“ ‘ If so,’ said I, ‘ our best plan would be to gel 
hack the road we came, and that as speedily as pos- 
sible. But I do not think it is that. They would not 
stand to fight such creatures. Both elk and deer 
trust to their heels, rather than horns, to escape from 
bears and panthers. No, it is not that ; but let ma 
creep forward and see what it is, any how. Hold 
fast to your dog. Come ! ’ 

“ We crouched forward with the utmost caution, 
taking care not to tread upon the dry leaves and dead 
branches that lay across our track. We saw before 
us a thicket of pawpaws ; and we made towards this, 
knowing that the broad, green leaves of these bushes 
would screen us. We were soon among them ; and 
a few paces farther through the thicket brought us in 
full view of the glade. There we saw what had 
caused all the strange noises, and which still contin 
ued as loud as ever. 


^10 THE BATTLE OF THE BUCKS. 

“ II ihe middle of the glade, there were six red 
deer. They wore all bucks, as we could easily telT 
from their great, branching antlers. They were en- 
gaged in fierce and terrible conflict — sometimes ♦wo 
and two, and sometimes three or four of them, 
clumped together in a sort of general melee. Then 
they would separate again ; and going some distance 
apart, would vvheel suddenly about, and rush at each 
other with furious snorts, first striking forward 
with their fore feet held close together, and then 
goring one another with their sharp horns, until we 
could see the skin torn open, and the hair flying 
from them in tufts. Their eyes were flashing like 
fire, and their whole actions betokened that the ani- 
mals were filled with rage and fury. 

“ I saw at once what all this meant. It was now 
the rutting season ; and these chivalrous bucks were 
engaged in desperate combat about some fair doe, as 
is their yearly habit. 

“ They were too distant for either Harry’s rifle or 
mine; and thinking they might fight themselves a 
little nearer, we determined to remain where we 
were and watch. The combat still continued to rage 
furiously. Sometimes two of them came together 
with such violence that both went rolling over to the 
earth ; but in a moment they would up and at il 
again as fiercely as ever. 

“ Our attention was particularly directed to two of 


THE BATTLE OF I'HE BUCKS. 


341 


;he combatants, that were larger and older than any 
of the others — as we could tell from the greater num« 
her of points upon their antlers. None of the others 
seemed a match for either of these two, who had ai 
length singled each other out as worthy antagonists, 
and fought separately. After goring and stamping s 
while, they parted, — as if by mutual consent, — ano 
W'alked backward, until they had got at least twenty 
yards from each other. Then setting their necks, 
and putting all their energy into the rush, they 
dashed forward, and met head to head, like a couple 
of rams. There was a terrible crashing among their 
antlers ; and Harry and I looked to see whether a 
pair of them had not been knocked off in the con- 
cussion ; but it appeared not. After this, the two 
struggled for awhile, and then suddenly paused, — 
still head to head, as though by a tacit agreement, — in 
order to take breath. For some moments they stood 
quietly in this attitude, and then once more com 
menced struggling. After a while they stopped again 
still keeping their heads together, so that their red, 
expanded nostrils steamed into each other. Wa 
tlioughl that they fought quite differently from all 
the rest ; but our eyes were now drawn to the others, 
who were getting nearer us ; and we prepared our 
rifles to receive them. At length they came within 
range and, each of us choosing one, we fired al- 
most simultaneously. At the double crack, oih) of 
29 * 


342 


THE BATTLE OF THE BUCKS. 


tile bucks fell; and the other three, on perceiving 
the common enemy, immediately desisted from their 
mutual warfare, and bounded off like lightning 
Harry and I rushed forward, as we had fired ; and 
thinking that the deer which we had missed — it 
was Harry’s miss that time — might be wounded, we 
unmuzzled the dogs, and let them after. Of course, 
we had s'.ooped down to perform this operation. 
What was our surprise, on looking up again, to see 
the two old bucks still in the glade, and^fighting, 
bead to head, as briskly as ever! 

“ Our first thought was to reload our pieces ; but 
the dogs had been let loose, and these, instead of 
pursuing the other deer, dashed forward at the bucks, 
and the next moment sprang upon their flanks. 
Harry an.d I rushed after, and you may guess that 
our surprise was still further increased when we saw 
the* bucks, instead of separating, still struggle head 
to head — as if their desperate hostilty for each other 
had rendered them reckless of every other danger. 
When we got forward to the spot, the mastiffs had 
brought boin of them to theii knees ; and now, foi 
the first time we perceived the true cause why thej 
had continued their singular combat — because thej 
rould not help themselves ; their antlers were locked 
in each other ! — yes, held as firmly as if they 
had been lashed together by thongs cut out of then 
Dwn hides. Indeed, far more firmly, for after we 


THE BATTLE OF THE BUCKS. 


343 


ftad beaten off the dogs^ and secured the animals 
from the chance of escaping, we found their horns 
so interlocked — one pair within the other — that we 
could not separate them with all our efforts. We 
had sadly wronged the poor old bucks, in believing 
them so desperately pugnacious. Their hostile feel- 
ings for each other had long since ceased, — no doubt 
the moment they found themselves in such a terrible 
fix, — and they now stood, nose to nose, quite fright- 
ened-like, and ‘ down in the mouth,’ as if vexed at 
the mess they had got themselves into by their bad 
behavior. 

Harry and I, after much pulling and hammer- 
ing, found it quite impossible to make two of them. 
The antlers, which, as you know, are elastic, had 
bent with the terrible concussion we had witnessed ; 
and it was far beyond our strength to bend them 
back again. In fact, nothing but a machine of horse 
power could have accomplished that. I sent my 
companion, therefore, after Cudjo and his handsaw — 
at the same time directing him to bring the horse 
and cart, for the carcass of the buck we had shot, as 
well as some ropes for our captives. While he was 
gone, I employed my time in skinning the dead 
animal leaving his live companions to themselves: 
I had no fear of their being able to escape. ^ Cowed 
and sullen as both of them looked, it was well for 
them — since we did not mean to butcher them — that 


344 


THE BATTLE OF THE BUCKS. 


we had arrived upon the ground as we did, other 
wise their fate was a settled one. The wolves, oi 
some other of their numerous enemies, would have 
treated them worse than we intended to do ; or had 
they not been discovered by these, their doom was 
sealed all the same. They might have twisted and 
wriggled about for a few days longer, to die of thirs 
and hunger, still locked in that hostile embrace. 
Such is the fate of many of these animals. 

“ Cudjo soon arrived with the necessary imple- 
ments ; and after hoppling both the bucks, we sawed 
one of the branches from their antlers, and set them 
asunder. We then put all three into the cart, and 
returnei triumphant to tho houtse.” 


T«E PIT TRAP. 


345 


CHAPTER XXXVII 

THE PIT TRAP. 

CuD.o had already completed our deer park, 
ifthich consisted of several acres, partly woodland, and 
part of it being in the glade immediately adjoining 
the house. It was enclosed, on all sides, by a ten-rail 
fence, with stakes and riders, so that no anlmal-of the 
deer species could possibly leap out of it. One of its 
sides lay along the lake ; and a trench had been cut, 
BO as to admit a small pond of water within the 
enclosure. Into this our bucks were put, and left to 
enjoy themselves as they best might. 

“ The next anxiety of Harry and myself was to 
procure a doe or two, to keep them company There 
was no likelihood that we should capture a pair of 
does as we had just done the bucks — since the 
does of this species of deer are without the great 
antlers. How, then, should we get hold of one r 
That was what puzzled us, and set all our wits to 
work. 

As w^ sat around the log fire, in the evenings, 
we talked the matter over and over again. We 


y. 


316 


THE PIT TRAf. 


might shoot one mat had the fawns following at lie! 
heels ; and we knew we could then easily taka theni 
— as these affectionate little creatures always remain 
by their mother, even after she has fallen by the 
bullet of the hunter’s rifle. But this was a cruel 
expedient ; and mamma, who, of course, oveiheard 
us planning the thing, at once entered her protest 
against it. So, too, did Frank, for he was of a very 
gentle nature ; and, as you might say, could not 
endure to see a fly killed, except when strict neces- 
sity required it. Yet, withal, this same Frank, ana 
mamma, who were entomologists,' as well as orni- 
thologists and botanists, had killed many a fly — as 
might be seen by looking at a large frame hung 
against the wall, where all sorts of flies, and moths, 
and great, bright butterflies were empaled upon the 
sharp thorns of the locust. I am afraid that neither 
mamma nor Frank could have defended the point 
very gracefully, with so contradictor} an argurrient 
hanging against the wall. Harry and I, however, 
did not contemplate the adoption of this plan — as we 
knew that the fawns would be a long time in growing 
up, and we wanted an old doe or two at once. 

“ ‘ Can we not trap them ? ’ asked Harr}". ‘ Why 
not take them in a trap, as' Frank did the turkeys?’ 

“ * I am afraid you would not easily get deer into 
such a trap as that where the turkeys were caught. 

‘“But, paoa,’ continued Harry, ‘I have read of 


THE PIT TRAP. 


347 


pthti kinds of traps. One 1 remember Hrell. It is 
n \de by building a large enclosure, just like oui park, 
only leaving a gap, and then having two fences, that 
run out from this gap far into the woods, and of eriing 
like the legs of a pair of compasses. The deer are 
driven between these two fences, and into the gao, 
when the hunters follow, and close them in. I think 
that looks very easy to be done. How if we try it ? ’ 
‘ It wouM not do at all. In the first place, it 
would take us several weeks to split rails enough to 
make the fences sufficiently long ; and, secondly, we 
should require men, and dogs, and horses, more than 
we have, to run the deer in the right direction. All 
this we might manage, it is true, by undergoing a 
great deal of trouble ; but I think I know a sort of 
trap that will serve our purpose better.’ 

“ ‘ O, you do. I am glad. What kind, papa } ’ 

“ ‘ You remember where we noticed so many deer 
tracks running between two large trees ^ ’ 

“‘Yes, yes; near the salt spring. You said it 
was a path used by the deer, and other animals, 
when they went to lick the salt from the rocks 
below.’ 

Well — between those two trees let us dig a pit, 
Rlid cover it over with branches, and grass, and 
•caves. Then we shall see. What think you.?’ 

O, a pit trap ! that’s the very thing ! ’ 

Next morning, with our spade and axe, Cudjo 


548 


THE PIT i’RAP 


Fompo, and the cart, we set forth. Wc weit) soon 
upon the ground, and commenced operations. W« 
first marked out the size of the pit — which was 
to be eight feet long, and to extend in width from 
tree to tree, as near to both as we could convenient!] 
get for the great roots. Cudjo then set to work with 
his spade, while I handled the axe and cut off the 
ppreading roots as they were laid bare. Harry, 
meanwhile, employed himself with the hatchet in 
getting long, slender saplings and canes to cover in 
the pit. We threw the earth into the cart, and hauled 
it off some distance into the woods — taking care 
not to spill much of it around the place. Fortunately, 
the ground was very soft, and easily dug up, so that, 
in about five hours’ time, we had excavated a square 
hole at least seven feet deep. ‘ This would do,’ 
thought we. ‘ No deer could leap out of that hole, 
we were certain.’ 

“ We now placed the saplings across the top, and 
over these a thin stratum of cane reeds, and above all 
this a quantity of long grass and withered leaves — so 
as to make it look as like as possible to the rest of the 
surface around it. We then removed the clods and 
other marks of our work, put our implements into me 
cart, and started off home again. Of course, we could 
do nothing moie than wait until some unlucky Jeei 
should drop into the pit. 

“ By sunrise, on the following morning, wa paid a 


/ 


THE'^PIT TRAP. 


349 


visit to our trap. As we drew near, we saw to our 
great joy that the top was broken in. 

“ ‘ We have caught something, papa,’ said Hairy, 
as we ran eagerly up to the ground. What was out 
astonishment, on looking into the pit, lO see lying 
along the bottom the naked skeleton of an animal, 
which we knew at once was that of a deer! We 
Knew this by the horns, as well as pieces of the torn 
skin that were strewed all over the ground. All 
around the inside of the trap, there were evidences of 
some terrible struggle that had taken place during the 
night; and the reeds and grass that had fallen in 
along with the animal were sprinkled with blood, and 
trampled down upon the bottom of the pit. 

“ ‘ What can it be ? ’ inquired Harry, as we stood 
gazing at this unexpected picture. ‘ Ha I papa. I’ll 
wager it was the wolves ! ’ 

“ ‘ No doubt,’ replied I ; ‘ it must have been they. 
The buck has fallen in during the night ; and they 
have just leaped down upon the top, and made a meal 
of him.’ 

“‘Isn’t it too bad,’ said Harry, in a tone of vex- 
ation, ‘ that we should have constructed so fine a trap 
just to accommodate those rascally wolves ? Isn’t it 
too bad ? ’ 

“ ‘ Have a little patience,’ said I • ‘ we shall see 
what can be done to punish the ravenous brutes. 
Rim back to the house, and bring Cudjo, with his 
*10 


350 


THE PIT TRAP. 


cart and tools. Be sure you tell him to bring he 
'arge basket.’ 

“ In a short time, Cudjo came with his spade and 
cait, and we set freshly to work upon the pit. It was 
now so deep that we had to use the laige w'illow 
basket which Cudjo had made some time before. 
This we slung upon a thong of deer’s hide ; and low- 
ering it into the pit, we filled it with the earth, drew 
it up again, and emptied it into the cart It was 
somewhat laborious work ; and Cudjo ,and I took 
turns about with the basket and spade. After a 
couple of hours or so, we had added four feet to the 
depth of our pit, which made it twelve in all. Of 
course, we cut the sides as nearly perpendicular as we 
could — if any thing, a little hanging over. We cov- 
ered it as before, putting fresh leaves and grass on 
the top of all. 

“ ‘ Now,’ said we to one another, as we marched 
off, ‘ let us see the wolf that will leap out of that, 
should he be only fool enough to drop into it. He 
may kill the deer while he is in, but we shall do the 
same for him in the morning.’ 

“ Next morning we started forth again, big with 
expectation. Our whole party went, — Frank, Mary, 
and the little ones, — as they were all eager to see 
the trap, and whether we had taken any thing 
Cudjo brought with him his long spear, while Harr}* 
‘Old I carried our rifles. Frank armed himself with 


THE PIT TRAP. 


35j 


nis bow. We were prepared for the woJves everl 
way. 

“ As we drew near the trap, Harry, who had gone 
a few paces in advance of the rest, came running 
back to announce that the top was broken in, and 
that there was some animal inside. This was great 
aews ; and we all hurried forward, filled with the 
excitement of expectation. We were soon upon the 
spot and looking down into the pit. The hole that 
had been made through the grass covering was not a 
very large *one, and it appeared quite dark inside ; 
but in the midst of the darkness, we could distinguish 
the shining eyes of animals. There were more than 
one pair, — there were several, — all looking up at 
us, and glittering like coals of fire ! ‘ What sort 

could they be ’ asked "we of one another. ‘ Were 
they wolves Yes, they must be wolves.’ 

“ Putting the rest to one side, I knelt down, and, 
stretching my neck over the hole, looked steadily in. 
I was not long in this position until I counted no less 
than six pairs of eyes ; and, to my great surprise, 
these eyes were of various shapes and colors. The 
trap appeared to be full of animals of all sorts ! 

‘At this moment, the thought entered my head 
that there might be a panther among the rest ; and 
as I knew that he could easily spring out, I became 
somewhat alarmed, and hastily rose to my feet. 1 
directed Mary to get into the cart slung with Ihe 


352 


THE PIT TRAP. 


children ; and we then led them off to some distance 
out of the way, until we should assure ourselves ar 
to what sort of creatures were our captives. VVa 
returned to the trap, and cautiously removing a 
quantity of the grass, so as to admit the light, wo 
again looked down. To our great delight, the first 
animal we could distinguish was the very one for 
which we had made the pit, — a red doe, — and, still 
better, among her legs we saw two beautiful spotted 
creatures of a light cinnamon color, which we at 
once recognized as fawns. We then looked around 
ihe pit for the others whose eyes I had seen ; and 
there, crouching in the darkest corners, we saw three 
bodies of a reddish-brown color, closely squatted 
like so many foxes. But they were not foxes ; they 
were wolves, as we knew well — three wolves, of the 
barking or prairie species. They were not likely to 
bark any more, although they howled a bit, as Cudjp 
reached them with his long spear, and finished them 
ir. a trice. 

“ Mary was now brought back ; and Cudjo, de- 
scending into the pit, secured the doe and fawns, 
which were soon hoisted up and put into the cart. 
The wolves were also flung out and dragged off to 
some distance, and the trap was again put in order 
for further captures; after which we all returned t) 
our house, pleased with the valuable addition we 
had made to our stock. We were not much leaf 


TILE PIT TRAP. 


35a 


nieased at having destroyed zho three wolves — foi 
these animals were verj plenty in the valley, and^ 
ever since our arrival, had caused us much an- 
noyance. A piece of meat could not be left outside 
without being carried off by them ; and even since 
the capture of our two bucks, they had several l; mes 
chased them through the park, until the noise made 
by the snorting of the latter had brought our dogs, 
and some of us along with them, to their rescue. 

“ But the most curious circumstance connected 
with this affair was, why these wolves had left the 
doe and her fawns unmolested. They could have 
killed the three in a moment’s time ; yet not a hair 
was ruffled upon any of them! This strange con- 
duct on the part of the wolves puzzled us all at the 
time ; and we could not offer even a probable con- 
jecture as to its cause. We found it out afterwards, 
however, when we became better acquainted with the 
nature of these animals. We found that, of the wild 
creatures that inhabited our valley, the prairie wclf 
was by far the most sagacious of all. Even sly 
Reynard himself, who has been so long fame us for 
his craft and cunning, is but a stupid when compared 
to his own cousin, the barking wolf. This we proved 
satisfactorily, when we endeavored afterwards to 
^rap these animals. We first tried them with a 
cage trap,’ similar to that which Frank had used in 
aking his turkeys. We baited it inside with a nio9 
30 * DD 


354 


THE PIT TRAP. 


piece of venison; but although we saw tracks all 
around, and particularly on that side nearest to the 
bait, not one of the wolves had cared to vent ire up 
the funnel-shaped entrance. We next laid a bait 
with snares around it, made out of the sinaws of the 
deer. We found the bait gone, and the snares 
gnawed to piec> s, as though the rats had done it ; 
but we knew by the tracks that it was no other 
animals than the prairie wolves. Our next attempt 
was with a ‘ figure-of-four’ trap. It was constructed 
with a large, shallow crate, made of split rails, and 
set leaning diagonally with its mouth downwards. 
It was held in that position with a regular staying 
and triggers — just as Frank and Harry used to set 
their traps to catch small birds. The bait was 
placed underneath, upon the staying, in the most 
tempting manner we could think of. On returning 
to examine our trap in the morning, we saw, as 
we came near, that it was down. ‘ We have caught 
one of them at last,’ thought we. What was our 
astonishment to find, on the contrary, that there was 
no wolf under the trap, and, moreover, that the 
bai' was gone ! This was easily explained. A large 
hoi; had been scraped under the trap, which, running 
for some distance underground, came out upon the 
outside. But the most singular part of the business 
was, that this hole had evidently been burrowed 
before the trigger had been touched or the trap had 


THE PIT TRAP. 


355 


fa hen. We could tell this, because the hole was 
made from the outside, and through it the anima 
had most likely entered. Of course, in laying hold 
of the bait the trigger was sprung, and the trap fell 
but it was of no use then, as the wolf had only to 
crawl out through the subterranean road he had 
made, dragging the meat along with him. 

“We again tried the ‘pit trap’ — although we 
still had the one which we had made near the salt 
springs, and in which we afterwards from time to 
time caught deer and other animals, but no wolves. 
We blade another, however, at a different part of the 
valley, near some caves where we knew the wolves 
were in great plenty. We baited this, first placing 
some venison upon the covering of leaves, and after- 
wards putting one of our live bucks into the pit ; but 
in both cases the bait remained untouched, although 
we had sufficient evidence that wolves had been 
around it all the night. 

“ We were very much chagrined by these numer- 
ous disappointments, as we wanted to thin off the 
wolves as much as possible. We occasionally shot 
an odd one or two, but we as often missed them ; 
and we could not afford to waste our powder and 
lead upon them. Cudjo, however, did the business 
at lust, by constructing a trap such as he said he 
had often caught raccoons with in ‘ Ole Vaginny. 
This was arranged something on the principle ni 


356 


THE PIT TRAP. 


the Wire mouse trap ; and the spring consisted in a 
young tree or sapling bent down and held in a state 
of tension until the trigger was touched, when it 
instantly flew up, and a heavy log descended ipon 
whatever animal was at the bait, crushing or killing 
it instantly. By means of Cudjo’s invention, we suc- 
ceeded in taking nearly a dozen of our skulking 
enemies in the course of a few nights, after which 
time they grew so shy that they would not approach 
any thing at all that looked like a ‘ fixture,’ and for 
a long while we could trap no more of them. 

“ Of course, all these incidents occurred afterwards, 
but they convinced us that it was owing to their 
great sagacity, why the three we had killed in the 
pit had left undisturbed the doe and her fawns 
They were, no doubt, the same that had eaten the 
buck on the night before. They had found him^ 
a shallow pit, out of which, after making iheir sup- 
per upon him, they had easily escaped. Returning 
again next night, they had watched until the doe and 
her fawns- came along and dropped into the pit ; 
and then, without dreaming of any change in iho 
circumstances of the case, the wolves had leaped in 
after. But the increased descent down which they 
pitched convinced these wary animals that they had 
‘ leaped without looking,’ and were ‘ in the trap 
themselves; and', guessing that whoever had made 
that trap would soon be alongside, they were a? 


THE PIT TRAP. 


357 


much frightened as the poor doe. In this state we 
had actually found them, cowering and crouching, 
and more scared-like than the fawns themselves. 
You will think this a very improbable relation, yel 
it is quite true. An equally improbable event 
occurred not long after. Frank caught a large fox 
and a turkey in his trap ; and although they had 
been together for some hours, not a feather of the 
turkey was plucked by its affrighted neighbor. 

“ I have also heard of a panther, who, by the 
sudden rising of a flood, had found himself upon a 
small islet in company with a deer ; and although 
at any other time his first instinct would have led him 
to pounce upon it, yet the poor deer was allowed to 
run about without its fierce companion attempting 
to touch it. He saw that hs and the deer ‘were 
equally in peril ; and a comuMn danger among the 
wild animals — as among mcxi — frequem'y tuini 
foes into fiiends.” 


tfjS the old ‘ ’possum ” AND HER KITTSNR 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE OLD “ 'POSSUM ” AND HER KITTENS. 

“ The next adventure which befell us was neai 
naving a more serious termination. This time, Frank 
was my companion, while Harry remained at home 
with his mother. Our errand was to procure some 
of the long Spanish moss that grew upon the live 
oaks in the lower end of the valley. This moss, 
when smoked, and cleansed of the leaves and pieces 
of bark that adhere to it, makes most e.xcellent stuff- 
ing for bed mattresses, — in fact, quite equal to curled 
hair, — and for this purpose we wanted if. We' did 
not take the cart, as Cudjo had Pompo in the plough, 
preparing a large tract for our second crop of corn. 
We only carried with us a couple of raw-hide ropes 
intending to bring home a good burden of the moss 
on our backs. 

We travelled on down the valley, looking for a 
Irt^ with moss upon it that we could climb. At 
length, almost close to the foot of the cliff, we 
chanced upon a very large live oak, with lo>\ 
branches, from which the long, silvery moss was 


THE OLD ’possum ” AND HER KITTENS. 359 


hanging down in streamers, like the tails of horses 
We soon stripped off what was on the lowei 
oranches ; and then, climbing up on these, pro- 
cesded to rob the others that were higher of their 
long, stringy parasites. 

While thus engaged, our attention was attracted 
to the chirping and chattering of some birds in a 
thicket of pawpaws close to our tree. We looked 
in that direction, and we could see down into the 
thicket very plainly from where we stood, among 
the branches. We saw that the birds making the 
noise were a pair of orioles, or ‘ Baltimore birds,’ as 
they are often called, from the fact that, in the 
early settlements, their color — a mixture of black 
and orange — was observed to be the same as that 
in the coat of arms of Lord Baltimore. Frank and 
I conjectured that they must have a nest among 
the pawpaws, for they had scolded us as we were 
passing through, but a moment before. ‘ But what 
were they scolding now.?’ asked we of one another, 
for the birds were fluttering among the broad, green 
leaves, uttering their shrill screams, and evidently 
under great excitement. We left off gathering our 
moss, and stood for a moment to see what it was all 
about. 

“'Presently we noticed a strange-looking object in 
motion along the ground, and close in to the edge of 
the thicket. At first sight, we knew rot what to 


360 THE OLD “ POSSUM AND HER KITTENS. 

make of it. Was it an animal? No — it could not 
be that. It had not the shape of any animal we had 
ever seen ; and yet we could see legs, and tails, and 
ears, and eyes, and heads. Heads, indeed ! — there 
seemed to be a head sticking out of every part of its 
body ^ for we counted half a score of them, as it 
moved along. It moved very slowly, and when 
iKjarly opposite to us it stopped, so that we had a 
good view of it. All at once, the numerous heads 
seemed to separate from the main body, becoming 
little bodies of themselves, with long tails upon them, 
and looking just like a squad of white rats. The large 
body to which they had all been attached we now 
saw was an old female opossum, and evidently the 
mother of the whole troop. She was about the size 
of a cat, and covered with woolly hair of a light-gi*ay 
color. She had a snout somewhat resembling that 
of a pig, but much sharper at the point, with whiskers 
like a cat. Her ears were short and standing, her 
mouth very wide, and, as we could see, full of sharp 
vCeth. The legs were short and stout, and the feet, 
with their keen claws, seemed to spread out upon 
.he ground more like hands than feet. The tail was 
very peculiar ; it was nearly as long as the body, 
tapering like that of a rat, and quite naked. But the 
greatest curiosity in the structure of this creature was 
a pouch-like opening which appeared under her belly, 
and which showed us that she belonged to the family 


THE OLD “ 'possum ” AIID HER KITTENS. 361 


of the marsupialia^ or pouched animals. This, of 
course, we had known beibre. 1 he little ‘ ’possums 
were exact pictures of their mother — all having the 
same sharp snouts, and long, naked tails. We counted 
no less than thirteen of them, playing and tumbling 
al)OUt among the leaves. 

“ As soon as the old one had shaken them all off, 
she stepped more nimbly over the ground, going 
backwards and forwards, and looking up into one of 
the pawpaws that grew above the spot where she had 
halted. In this tree the orioles were now fluttering 
about, chirping wildly, and, at intervals, making a 
dash downward, until their wings almost swept the 
nG3e of the opossum. The latter, however, appeared 
to take all this very coolly, and evidently did not 
regard the imbecile efforts of the birds to frighten 
her off, but continued her survey without paying any 
attention to their manoeuvres. On looking upward, 
we discovered the object of her reconnoissancc^ — the 
nest of the orioles, — which was hanging like a large 
purse, or, rather, like a distended stocking, from the 
topmost twigs of the trCe. 

“ After a few moments, the old ’possum seemed 
to have made up her mind ; and, approaching the 
spot where the young ones were scrambling about, 
she uttered a short, sharp note, that brought them all 
around her. Several of them ran into the pouch 
vb’ch she had caused to open for them. Two of 
31 EE 


3()2 - THE OLD “'possum” ANu HER KITTENS. 

Ihem took a turn of their lit'Ie tails around the T(xA 
of hers, and climbed up on her rump, almost burying 
tLi-nselves in her long wool ; while two cr tUee 
others fastened themselves about her neck and 
shoulders. It was a -most singular sight to see the 
little creatures holding on with ‘ tails, teeth, and toe 
nails,’ while some peeped comically out of the great 
breast pocket. 

“We thought she was going to move away with 
her cargo, but, to our astonishment, she walked up 
to the pawpaw, and commenced climbing it. When 
* she had reached the lowermost branch, which grew 
nearly horizontal, she halted ; then, taking the young 
ones, one by one, in her mouth, she caused each of 
them to make a turn or two of its tail around the 
branch, and hang head downwards. Five or six of 
the ‘ kittens ’ were still upon the ground. For these 
she returned, and taking them up as before, again 
climbed the tree. She disposed of the second load 
precisely as she had done the others, until the thir- 
teen little ’possums hung head downwards along the 
branch, like a string of candles. 

“ It was such a comical sight to see these monkey- 
looking little creatures dangling by their tails, that 
Hiy companion and I could not restrain our laughter 
as we gazed upon it. We took care, however, not 
to laugfl aloud, as we were anxious to observe the 
further movements of the old ’possum, and we kne»r 


^ HE OLD “ ’possum ” AND HER KITTENS. 3()3 


that f she should hear us it would spoil sport al 
once. 

“ As soon as she saw the young ones all fairly 
STJspended, she separated from them, and commenced 
climbing higher. We noticed that she caught the 
branches in her claws, exactly as a human being 
would have done with his hands, hoisting herself 
from limb to limb. At length she reached the branch 
upon which hung the nest, far out at its top. For a 
moment, she stopped and surveyed it. She was evi- 
dently in doubt whether it would carry her weight 
without breaking, and so were we. Should it break, 
she would have a smart fall to the ground ; for the 
tree was one of the highest, for a pawpaw, we had 
ever seen, and there were no other branches below 
to which she could clutch, in case of falling. 

“ The nest, however, full of eggs, no doubt, tempted 
her on ; and, after a moment’s pause, she started 
along the branch. When about half way up it, - - 
holding on both with tail and feet, — the slender sap- 
ling began to creak and bend, and show symptoms 
of breaking. This, with the screaming of the birds, 
that now flapped against her very nose, seemed all 
at once to cow her ; and she crept down again, 
going backwards along the limb. On reaching the 
fork, she paused, and looked about with an air that 
showed she was both vexed and puzzled. All at 
once her eyes rested upon the branch of an oak 
tree, that stretched out ov'=‘t the p2L*.vn:i*.v. run-ti 


364 THE OLD “ 'possum AND HER KITTENS. 

above tno orioles' nest. She looked at this for 
moment, as if calculating its height from the nest 
then, seeming to make up her mind, she ran nimblj 
down the pawpaw, over the ground that intervened, 
and up the trunk of the oak. We lost sight of hei 
for an instant among the thick leaves ; but the next 
we saw her crawling ^ut upon the branch that 
Dverhung the pawpaw. 

“ When she had reached a point directly above 
the nest, she flung herself fearlessly from the branch, 
and hung to her whole length, suspended by the tail 
In this position she oscillated back and forward, wif/i 
gaping mouth and outstretched claws, endeavoring 
to seize hold of the nest ; but with all her efforts 
and no doubt to her great mortification, she was 
unable to reach it. There she hung for several 
minutes, clutching, now at the nest, now at the leaves 
of the pawpaw, and evidently tantalized by the sight 
of the delicious eggs so near her very nose. We 
could see that she had lowered herself to the last 
*’nk of her tail, — until only a single turn of it sus- 
tained her upon the limb, — and we expected every 
moment to see her fall to the ground. Her stretch- 
ing was all to no purpose, however ; and uttering a bit- 
ter snarl, she swung hefeelf back to the limb, and 
came running down from the oak. 

“ She seemed to have given up her purpose in a 
sort of angry despair, for, climbing up the pawpaw, 
"be hurried her voung from the branch, pitching 


THE OLB 


'POSSUM AND HER KITTENS. S6;j 


them somewhat rudely to the ground. In a short 
while, she had gathered them all upon her back and 
into her pouch, and commenced retreating from 
the spot — while the orioles changed their terrified 
screaming into chirps of victory. 

“ Frank and I now deemed it proper to interfere, 
and cut off the retreat of the ‘ old ’possum ; ’ so, 
dropping from our perch, we soon overtook and 
captured the whole family. The old one, on first 
seeing us approach, rolled herself into a round clump, 
— so that neither her head nor legs could be seen, — 
and in this attitude feigned to be quite dead. Several 
of the youngsters, who were outside, immediately 
detached themselves, and imitated the example of 
their mother — so that the family now presented the 
appearance of a large ball of whitish wool, with sev- 
eral smaller ‘ clews ’ lying around it. 

“ On finding, however, that we were not to be 
cheated, and being pricked gently with the point of 
an arrow, the old one unwound herself, and, opening 
her long jaws, snapped and bit on every side of her, 
uttering all the while a sharp noise, like the snarling 
of a pocdle. 

Her snarling did not avail her, for in a few 
minutes we had muzzled her securely, and made 
her fast to one of the saplings, intending to take 
the whole family with us when we returned to the 
house. ” 


THE MOCCASON SNAKE AND THE ORIOLES. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE MOJCASON SNAKE AND THE ORIOLES. 

‘‘We now climbed back into the live oak, ana 
recommenced flinging down our moss. We were 
chatting gayly about the curious scene we had just 
witnessed. Frank was remarking how lucky he had 
been in thus finding the nest of the orioles — as he 
wanted young birds of that species, and he could 
return for them whenever they were hatched. All of 
a sudden, these birds — that, since the defeat of the 
’possum, had remained perfectly quiet — again com- 
menced screaming and chattering as before. 

‘Another ’possum ! ’ said Frank; ‘ may be it’s the 
old father coming to look after his family.’ 

“ W’e both stopped, and looked down. We soon 
discovered what was causing this new commotion. 
Slowly gliding over the grass, and glittering as it 
went, was a long, monster-looking object. It was a 
huge serpent, — a snake of the most venomous kind, 
— the dreaded ‘ moccason.’ It was one of the 
largest of its species ; and its g^eat flat head, pro- 
truding sockets, and sparkling eyes, added to the 





THE MOCCASON S.^xKE AND THE ORIOLES. 361 


^ideousncss of its appearance. Every now and then 
as it advanced, it threw out its forked tongue, which, 
moist' with poisonous saliva^ flashed under the sun- 
beam like jets of fire. It was crawling directly foi 
the tree on which hung the nest. Frank and 1 
stood still where we were, determined to watch its 
movements as we had done those of the opossum. 
On reaching the root of the pawpaw, it stopped for a 
moment, as if to consider. 

“ ‘ Do you think it is going to climb up to the 
nest ? ’ inquired my companion. 

“ ‘ No,’ I replied ; ‘ the moccason is not a tree 
climber. If it were, the poor birds, as well as the 
squirrels, would have little chance ; but it cannot 
climb. Look at it ! it is only making pretence — to 
frighten the orioles still more, if possible.’ 

“ As I said this, the snake had drawn its body 
closer to the tree, and raised its flat head up against 
the trunk, throwing out its tongue as if it was licking 
the bark. 

“ The orioles, evidently believing that it was about 
to climb up, had now descended to the lowest 
branches, fluttering from one to the other, and 
screaming all the while either with rage, or terror, 
or both combined. 

“ The snake, seeing them approach almost within 
range of his hideous maw, gathered himself into a 
coil, and prepared to strike. His eyes scintil/ated 


368 THE MOCCASO]^ SNAKE AM THE ORIOLES. 

<ike sparks of fire, and seemed to fascinate the birds 
for, instead of retiring, they each moment dre\i 
nearer and nearer, now alighting on the ground^ 
then flapping back to me branches, and anon darting 
to the ground again — as though they were under 
?ome spell from those fiery eyes, and were unable 
;o take thomselves away. Their motions appeared 
to grow less energetic ; their chirping became almos\ 
inaudible ; and their wings seemed hardly to expand 
as they flew, or rather fluttered, around the head of 
the serpent. One of them at length dropped dowr 
upon the ground, within reach of the snake, and 
stood with open bill, as if exhausted, and unable to 
move farther. We were expecting to see the snake 
suddenly launch forth upon his feathered victim; 
when all at once his coils flew out, his body was 
thrown at full length, and he commenced retreating 
from the tree ! The birds, apparently released from 
the spell that had bound them, flew up to the higher 
branches, and ceased their screams and chirping. 

“ For a while, my companion and I stood silent, 
wondering at this unexpected termination of the 
scene. 

“ ‘ What can have driven him off.? ’ asked Frank 
turcLiHg to me with a look of inquiry. 

“ Before I could make any reply, an object ap 
peered upon the edge of the thicket, which occupied 
the attention of both of us. It was an animai aboui 


T IE WoCOASON &NaivE AND THE ORIOLES. 369 


Ctio size of. a wolf, and of a dark gray or blackish 
color. Its body was compact, round-shaped, and 
covered, not with hair, but with shaggy bristles, 
that along the ridge of its back were nearly six inches 
in length, and gave it the appearance of having a 
mane. It had very short ears ; no tail whatever, oi 
only a knob ; and we could see that its feet were 
hoofed, not clawed, as in beasts of prey. But whether 
beast of prey or not, its long mouth, with two white 
tusks protruding over the jaws, gave it a very for- 
midable appearance. Its head and nose resembled 
those of the hog more than any other animal ; and, 
in fact, it was nothing else than the peccary — the 
wild hog of Mexico. As it came out from the long 
weeds and grass, we saw that two smaller animals, of 
a dark, reddish color, — two young peccaries, — were 
following at its heels. Like the opossum, it was a 
mother and her brood. 

“ The three soon drew near the pawpaws ; and the 
orioles seeing them, once more set up the scolding 
concert. But the old peccary paid no attention to the 
birds. They were nothing to .her ; and she passed on 
with her nose to the ground, occasionally stopping to 
pick up a seed or a nut. 

“ In going away from the thicket, she crossed the 
track by which the serpent had retreated. All on a 
sudden she stopped, tossed up her nose, and scented 
the air. The fetl^ smell of the moccason had reached 


870 THE MOCCASON SNAKE AND THE ORIOLES. 

her, aii'.d seemed at once to louse all her energies 
She ran for some moments from side to side, with hei 
nose 'to the ground, and lifting the trail like a hound 
She first followed it back to the tree ; but there was a 
double trail, — that by which the snake had come, as 
well as the one he had just made in retreating, — and 
this for a moment puzzled her. She took the wrong 
trail at first, and galloped nimbly out upon it; but, 
almost# in the same breath, returned to the tree, and 
then started upon the other. 

“ During all these manoeuvres, the snake was 
crawling off as fast as he could, — which at best was 
only a very tardy gait, — for the moccason is but a 
slow traveller. We could see that he kept as much 
as possible under the grass, occasionally raising his 
flattened head and glaring behind him. He was 
making for the cliffs, that were only about a stone’s 
throw distant. 

‘‘ He had got scarce half way, when .e peccary, 
running up the fresh trail, almost trod upon him ; and, 
seeing the object of her pursuit, she suddenly stopped, 
erected her long bristles, and uttered a shrill grunt. 
The snake, finding that he was overtaken, threw him- 
self into a coil, and prepared to give battle ; while his 
antagonist, now looking more like a great porcupine 
than a pig, drew back, as if to take the advantage of 
d lun, and then halted Both for a moment eyed 
each other, — the peccarv evidently calculating i's 


THE MOCCASON SNAKE AND THE ORIOLES. 371 


distance, — while the great snake seemed cowed anc 
quivering with affright. Its appearance was entirely 
different from the bright semblance it had exhibited 
but a moment before, when engaged with the birds. 
Its eyes were less rlery, and its whole body seemed 
more ashy and wrinkled. 

“We had not many moments to observe it, for the 
peccary was now seen to rush forward, spring high 
into the air, and pounce down with all her feet held 
together upon the coils of 'the serpent. She imme- 
diately bounded back again, and, quick as thought, 
once more rose above her victim. The snake 
was now uncoiled, and writhing over the ground. 
Another rush from the peccary, — another spring, — 
and the sharp hoofs of the animal came down upon 
the neck of the serpent, crushing it upon the hard 
turf. The body of the reptile, distended to its 
full length, quiveied for a moment, and then lay 
motionless along the grass. The victor uttered an- 
other sharp cry, iiat seemed intended as a call to her 
young ones, who, emerging from the weeds where 
they had concealed themselves, ran nimbly forward 
to t&s spot.’' 


372 


THE BATTLE OP 


CHAPTER XL. 

THB BATTLE OF THE COUGAR AND PECCABJIKJ 


“Frank and I were rather pleased with, the result 
of the encounter ; though I do not see why we should 
have taken sides with the peccary, who would have 
eaten the birds, — could she have caught them, — and 
their eggs, too, just as fast as the snake would have 
done. And why should we have taken the part of 
the birds either, who, in their turn, had devoured 
many a butterfly as bright and beautiful as them- 
selves? But so it is. From time immemorial, the 
poor snake — who is comparatively a harmless ani- 
mal, and whose deadly powers have been greatly 
exaggerated — has been hated and persecuted by 
man more than any other creature ; thus fulfilling in 
a remarkable manner the prophecy of the sacrea 
book. 

“ We began to consider what plan we should take 
to capture the animal. We desired very much to 
get possession of the young ones, as we knew they 
would be a valuable addition to our stock, and would 
0er%’e us in the place of real pigs — though their flesh 


THE COUGAR AND PECCARIES. 


m 


Goes not taste much like pork. It is more like that 
of the hare. In fact, it is not eatable at all, unless 
certain precautions are taken immediately after the 
animal is killed. There is a glandular opening on 
the back, just above the rump, that has been im- 
properly called a navel. In this opening, there is a 
substance that emits a strong smell of musk ; and if 
the whole part be not cut out, in less than an hour 
after the animal has been killed, the flesh becomes 
so impregnated with the musky odor that it is quite 
unpalatable. If the gland, however, be removed in 
time, peccary pork is not bad eating — though there 
s no lard in it, as in the common pork, and, as we 
Dave said, it tastes more like the flesh of the hare. 

“ But my companion and I did not think of these 
things at the time. We only thought of how we 
could capture the young peccaries. 

“ It was plain that, while the mother was with 
them, the thing would be impossible. We knew that 
we dared not encounter the fierce brute. Even had 
we had our dogs with us, she would have been more 
than a match for both of them with her sharp tusks, 
and long, crocodile-shaped jaws. In fact, the most 
courageous dog will lower his tail and run from the 
attack of this animal ; and if, on the contrary, he 
should await it, it would only be to have a leg snapi>€d 
off, or his side ripped open. It was plain, then, as 
long as the old one w'as there to guard them, we 
32 


374 


THE BATTLE OF 


could nev'er lay our fingers upon the ‘shoals.’ What 
was to be done ? Should we send a rifle bullet at the 
mother Frank thought this would be cruel ; and so 
it would have been. Still I knew that the peccary 
was a fierce animal, and not much entitled to the 
mercy we would have shown to a deer, or any harm- 
less creature like that. I knew, moreover, that there 
were a good many of them in the valley, — for we 
had seen their tracks in the mud, — and it was ex- 
ceedingly dangerous to come in contact with them, 
indeed, hunters and others have been often sur- 
rounded and torn to pieces by them. Such, then, 
being the case, I felt that it would not be wise to lei 
any of them escape, whenever we could destroy 
them — else they might at some time destroy one of 
ourselves. With these thoughts in my mind, I paia 
but little attention to the remonstrances of Frank, 
but, bending down from the branch, on which we 
stood, I reached for my rifle. I could just lay hold 
of the muzzle, as it leaned against the tree; and 
drawing it cautiously up, I prepared to fire. 

“ During all this time, the peccary had been busy 
with the carcass of the snake. After killing it, she 
had bitten off the head ; and, holding the body be- 
tween her fore feet, with her tusks and teeth she had 
peeled ofT the skin as adroitly as a fishmonger would 
have skinned an eel. She had just finished this 
operation as I got hold of the gun, and was now 


THE COUGAR AMD PECCARIES. 


3^5 


icaring up the white flesh, and throwing it in small 
pieces to the youngsters — all the while uttering low 
grunts, that betokened her satislaction and enjoy- 
ment. 

“ I raised my rifle, and was_ about to take aim, 
when an object caught my eye, which caused me to 
lowei it again with a feeling of terror. The peccary 
was about fifty yards from the tree upon which we 
stood ; and about twenty yards beyond, another ani- 
mal, of a far different aspect, was seen coming out 
of the jungle. It was about the size of a vealed 
calf, but shorter in the legs, and much longer in the 
body. It was all over of a deep-red color, except 
the breast and throat, which were nearly white. Its 
ears were erect, short, and blackish ; its head and 
muzzle cat-shaped ; and its whole body somewhat re- 
sembled the figure of a cat — except that its back, 
instead of being* arched, was hollow, and sunk away 
below the level of its gaunt, muscular shoulder. 

“ It would have been a fearful thing to look at, 
even had we not known what it was ; but we knew, 
and that rendered the sight of it still more terrifying. 
I. was the cougar! 

Now, for the first time since coming upon the 
spot, we felt fear. We knew that the peccary, sav- 
age as it was, could not climb a tree ; and hitherto 
we had deemed ourselves secure. .We were now no 
onger so. We knew that the cougar could ascend 


376 


THE BATTLE Ot 


a tree with the agility of a squirrel, and was as much 
at home among the branches as upon the grounc 
itself. I knew all this ; and I turned to my com- 
panion, and whispered him to remain motionless and 
silent. 

“ The cougar came cn with stealthy tread. His 
eyes, as we could see, were set upon the unconscious 
peccary ; and his legs were strained down as he 
rhoved, so that one would have thought he was crawl- 
ing upon his belly. His long tail, stretched away 
behind him, was gently waving from side to side — 
exactly after the manner of a cat, when stealing 
through the stubble upon the basking partridge. 

“ All this time the peccary was greedily devouring 
the snake, .wholly unconscious of the danger that was 
gathering over her. The ground, for some distancu 
around her, was clear of weeds and brushwood ; but 
a ■ large tree stood near, and its long, horizontal 
branches stretched out, casting their shade upon the 
spot she occupied. On reaching the margin of the 
weeds that had hitherto partially concealed him, the 
cougar suddenly stopped, and appeared to deliberate 
He knew that, unless he could spring suddenly and 
unawares upon the back of his victim, h*^ would have 
to encounter those terrible tusks, the effects of which 
he saw exhibited at that moment on the carcass of the 
great reptile. He was still too distant to reach the 
peccary with a single spring; and he appeared to be 


THE COUGAR ANL PECCARIES. 


377 


considering how he might get a little nearer withou 
being discovered, 

“ All at once, his eyes rested upon the overstretch- 
ing branches ; a sudden change lock place in his 
attitude, and, turning slowly and silently, he crawled 
back among the weeds. We could see that he wa# 
making a detour to get upon the other side of the 
tree from that occupied by the peccary. Presently 
we saw him approach the trunk, and the next moment 
spring up it, more like a streak of red light than a 
living animal. We could hear the rattle of his claws 
in the loose bark, as he passed upward ; and the pec- 
cary, too, seemed to have heard it, for she threw up 
her head with a grunt; and stood for a moment lis- 
tening. 

“ ‘ Only a squirrel, perhaps ! ’ thought she , and 
again resumed her occupation. 

“ The cougar now appeared, coming from behind 
the trunk, and, after looking cautiously about him, 
commenced crawling out along the branch. On 
reaching one of its forks, he gathered himself like a 
cat, and then, with a terrific scream, sprang down 
upon the back of his victim. His claws were buried 
in her neck at the first dash ; and his long body 
covered hers — his hind legs and tail wrapping around 
her. The frightened animal uttered a shrill cry, and 
struggled to free itself. Both rolled over the ground 
.he peccary all the while gnashing its ja vs, and 
32 * FF 


378 


THE BATTLE OF 


continuing .to senJ forth its strange, sharp cries, until 
the woods echoed again. Even the young ones ran 
around, mixing in the combat — now flung sprawling 
upon the earth, now springing up again, snapping 
their little jaws, and imitating the cry of their mother. 
The cougar alone fought in silence. Since the first 
wild scream, not a sound had escaped him ; but from 
that moment his claws never relaxed their hold ; and 
we could see that, with his teeth, he was silently tear- ^ 
ing the throat of his victim. 

' “The combat did not last long — only a few mo- 
ments. The peccary soon ceased to struggle, and 
lay upon her side — still in the embrace of her terri- 
ble adversary, who had now torn open the veins of 
the neck, and was, silently and catlike, lapping the 
warm blood. 

“ With all the hostility which we now felt for the 
cowardly cougar, we did not deem it prudent to inter- 
fere. We knew that he would serve us just as he 
was doing the peccary, if he only knew that we were 
so convenient to him ; and we therefore remained 
perfectly still, not daring even to move a limb. He 
was not thirty yards from us, for* the struggle had 
brought both him and his victim nearer to our tree. 

I could have shot him, as he lay crouching in the 
enjoyment of his red meal ; but I knew too well the 
uncertainty of killing such a muscular and powerful 
animal with a rifle budet ; and I resolved to let him 


THE COUGAR AND PECCARIES. 


3*79 


inish his feast, and take himself off if he would, 
without any hinderance on our part. We were not 
allowed much time to think about it ; for the combat 
was hardly over, when strange voices .'•eached our 
ears, coming from the woods, apparently on all sides 
of us. They had reached the ears of the cougar, 
too ; for the fierce brute started suddenly to his legs, 
and stood listening, and, as we thought, somewhat 
cowed-like. He seemed to hesitate a moment, look- 
ing around him and down at the fresh-killed animal 
Then, as if suddenly forming a resolution, he buried 
his teeth in the throat of the dead peccary, and, 
swinging the carcass over his long back, commenced 
retreating. 

“ He had made only a few steps, when the noises 
that had been all the time growing more distinct were 
heard upon the very edge of the underwood ; and, 
the- next moment, several dark objects bounded out 
into the opening. We saw at a glance they were pec- 
caries. There were twenty or thirty in all. They 
had been summoned by the cries of the one that was 
just killed. They came from every side, rushing 
simultaneously forward, and uttering their shrill grunts 
as they ran. 

“ Thfey had got between the cougar and the trees 
before he could reach the latter ; and, in fact, they 
were upon him on all sides, almost in the twinkling 
of an eye. They formed a complete circle around 


380 


THE BATTLE OF 


him, and with their long bristles erected, their gnash 
ing jaws, and shrill notes, they presented a most 
formidable array. 

“ The cougar, seeing that his retreat was cut off,— 
at least, so long as he carried the carcass, — flung off 
his burden, and leaped upon the foremost of his ad- 
vancing enemies, striking it to the ground with his 
huge paws. He had not time to turn himself, how 
ever, when several others fastened on him from be- 
hind ; and we could see the red fur fly from his sides, 
torn up by their sharp tusks. Now came the strug- 
gle in earnest. For a short while, the cougar kept his 
antagonists at bay — striking them down and tearing 
them with teeth and claws ; but at length the whole 
herd closed upon him, and we could see the blood 
streaming from his torn flanks. He now seemed ic. 
fight as if wishing to mak<^his way through them 
and escape ; but the peccaries, as active as himself, 
hemmed him in their midst, surrounding hirr£ with 
a dense mass of bodies and snapping jaws. Twice 
or three times, the cougar sprang into the air,— as if 
to leap beyond the circle of his antagonists, — but at 
the same time several of these were also seen to 
tear upward, and intercept him in the spring. At 
length, by a desperate effort, he succeeded in clearing 
himself ; and dashed out from among them, striving 
to escape What was our horror, on perceiving that 
he ran directly for the tree upon which we 
standing ! ' , - 


THE COUGAR AND PECCARIES. 


381 


With a feeling akin to despair, I cocked mj 
rifle ; but, before I could bring it to bear upon bw 
body, he had passed up the tree like a flash, and now 
lay crouching not twenty feet above our beads, and 
glaring down at us ! So close had he been in pass- 
ing, that his claws brushed my arm, and I could fee! 
his warm breath upon my face ! The peccaries had 
followed to the foot of the tree, and there stopped — 
being unable to climb it. Some of them ran around, 
gazing upward. Others tore the bark with their teeth, 
and all of them uttered their shrill screams of fury 
and disappointment. 

“ For some moments, Frank and I stood terror- 
struck. We knew not what was best to be done. 
There, above, was the terrible cougar, his eyes glar- 
ing like balls of fire at ourselves, who were within 
reach of a single spring We knew not the moment 
he might leap down upon us. Below, again, was an 
enemy, equally terrible, in the peccaries. They 
would have torn us to pieces in an instant, had we 
attempted to descend to the ground. No wonder, 
hen, we were terrified at the dilemma in which we 
vere so suddenly placed. No wonder it was some 
Moments before 1 could gather resolution enough 
Q act. 

“At length, however, I bethought myself that of 
the two enemies the cougar was certainly the worst. 
We were safe from the peccaries so long as we 


*182 


THE BATTLE OF 


remained upon the tree ; while we were at the mercj 
of the other, go where we would. I resolved, there* 
fore, to direct my energies towards the destruction ol 
the cougar. 

“ All this time, the latter had remained where he 
had first perched himself, in an upper fork of the tree 
He would, no doubt, have attacked us sooner, had he 
not dreaded the peccaries below ; but he feared that 
by springing at us be might precipitate himself among 
them, and this kept him for the moment quiet. 1 
knew very well, however, that, as soon as the animals 
at the foot of the tree should take their departure, out 
fate would be sealed. 

“ My companion was unarmed. He had brought 
with him only his bow and arrows. These had been 
left at the foot of the tree, and were already crunched 
to pieces by the peccaries. I put him behind me 
therefore, so that he should be out of the way of the 
cougar, in case I should only succeed in wounding 
the latter, and it might spring upon us. All this 
was done in silence, and as gently as possible, so as 
not to startle the monster that lay above us, glaring 
and growling. 

As soon as I was ready, 1 brought up my rifle 
slowly and with great caution. I steadied myself on 
the limb of the tree, and took aim directly for the 
head of the cougar — which was the only part of him 
! could see for the moss. I pulled trigger. Thf; 


THE COUGAR AND PECCARIES. * 383 

/ 

smoke fo* i while blinded me, and I could not tell tne 
effects ot my shot; but I heard a rustling noise, — 
as of some heavy body falling through the leaves and 
branches, — then a dull sound, as of the same body 
striking against me earth, — and at the same time 
louder screams, and a sudden rushing among the 
peccaries. I looked below. I saw the red body of 
the cougar struggling in their midst ; but it did not 
struggle long, for in a few moments it was tossed 
upon their snouts, and tom to pieces bv their long, 
fierce tusks.” 


364 BESIEGED IN A TX££- 


CHAPTER XL!. 

BESIEGED IN A TREK. 

“ I NOW believed that we were safe. Both Frani! 
and I experienced that happiness which men fee 
who have been suddenly snatched from the jaws of 
death. ‘ The peccaries,’ thought we, ‘ will soon dis 
perse and go off into the woods, now that their enemy 
has been destroyed.’ To our consternation, however, 
we soon found that we were mistaken ; for, instead 
of retiring after they had glutted their vengeance 
upon the cougar, they again surrounded the tree, 
looking fiercely up at us, tearing the bark as before, 
and uttering their wild cries. It was evident they 
were determined to destroy us, if they could. It was 
a strange way to thank us for delivering over to them 
their enemy. 

“ We were upon the lower branches, and they 
could see us distinctly. We might easily have 
climb%d higher ; but that would have served no pur- 
pose, as they could not reach us where we were. 
They could only destroy us by keeping us in the 
tree, until we might perish by hunger or thijrsl , and 


BESIEGED IN A TELE. 


385 


n<w what I had heard of the nature of these animals 
1 knew that it was not improbable that they might 
do this. 

At first, I was determined not to fire at them, 
thinking that after a while their fury might sub- 
side, and they would disperse. Frank and I, there- 
fore, climbed a little higher, and concealed our- 
selves, as well as we could, in the thick tufts cf 
the moss. 

“ After remaining thus for above two hours, we 
saw that it was all to no purpose ; for the peccaries, 
although they had become more quiet, still formed 
a dense circle around the tree, and appeared de- 
termined to carry out the siege. Some of them 
had lain down, — intending, no doubt, to lake it 
as easily as possible, — but not one had as yet left 
the spot. 

“ 1 grew impatient. I knew that our people would 
be uneasy about our long absence. 1 feared, more* 
over, that Harry and Cudjo might come in search of 
us ; and they, being on foot, and not able to climb 
quickly enough to a tree, might fall victims to these 
fierce creatures. I determined, therefore, to try what 
effect a shot or two might have upon the herd. 

“ I again descended amongst the lowermost branch- 
es, to make sure of my aim, and commenced 
firing. Each time I selected an animal, aiming aa 
nearly as I could for its heart. I fired five times, 
33 m 


3S6 


BESIEGED IN A TEEE. 


and at every shot one of tho peccaries was seen to 
bite the dust ; but the rest, instead of being frightened 
by the fearful havoc I was making among them, 
only trampled over the bodies of their dead ccm^ 
panions, grunting more fiercely than ever, and rush- 
ing against the trunk with their hoofed feet, as though 
they would climb up it. 

“ As I returned to load my rifle for the sixth time 
I found to my consternation that I had but one bullet 
left. This I rammed into the gun, which 1 again 
discharged among the peccaries, and another of them 
lay stretched upon the ground. But all to no_ purpose 
was this slaughter — the animals seemed to be quite 
regardless of death. 

“ I knew of no other method to drive them away ; 
and I now returned to the upper branches where 1 
had left my companion, and sat down beside him. 
We could do no more than wait with patience, in 
hopes that the night might call off our strange 
besiegers. Although we could hear them below ua 
still uttering their wild cries, and scratching against 
the trunk of the tree, we now paid them no more 
attention, but sat quietly upon our perch, confiding 
in the hand of Providence to deliver us. 

“ We had been seated thus but a very short while 
when all at once we became conscious that there 
was a bitter smoke rising around us. At first, we 
had taken it for the smoke which had been producea 


BESIEGED IN A TREE. 


38-3 


0 

b}’ the firing of tlie rifle, and which had hui.ig foi 
some time abo it the tree. Now we knew it could 
not be that, for it was growing thicker and thickei 
and we noticed that it had a smell very different 
from that of burnt powder. Moreover, it produced 
a stifling, choking sensation, causing us to cough, 
and rub our eyes with the pain. On looking down- 
ward, I was unable to see either the ground or the 
pi'ccaries ; but I could perceive a thick cloud rising 
up all around the tree. I could hear the voices 
of the fierce brutes loud as ever ; but they appeared 
to be scattering outward, and their cry was different 
to what it had hitherto been. It now occurred to 
me that the moss had caught fire from the wadding 
of my rifle ; and this soon proved to be the fact, for the 
smoke all at once became illuminated with a bright 
blaze, that seemed to spread almost instantaneously 
over the surface of the ground. We saw that it did 
not fully envelop the tree, but burnt on that side 
where we had thrown down the moss. 

“ My companion and I scrambled out on the 
branches to the opposite side — going as far as we 
could to avoid the smoke. We feared all the while 
that the hanging moss, or even the tree itself, might 
catch fire, and force us to leap into the midst of oui 
enemies. Fortunately, however, we had clean stripped 
those branches that hung directly over the blazing 
heap ; and as yet, the flames did not mount high 
enough to reach the others. 


B88' ' 


besie.;ed in a trek 


‘ When we had crawled beyond the blinding smoke 
ive could distinguish the peccaries, standing in a thick 
mass at some distance from the tree, and evidently 
somewhat terrified by the fire ‘ Now,’ thought I, 

‘ we shall be delivered from them. They will go off 
far enough to enable us to escape through the smoke;’ 
and with this intention, I commenced reconnoitring 
the ground in the direction in which the thick clouds 
were carried by the wind. I concluded that none of 
the animals had gone in this direction ; and I saw 
that, if we could leap down without being seen, we 
might make off through the trees. We were about 
descending upon a lower limb to carry out this pur- 
pose, when a sound, like the distant yelping of dogs, 
broke upon our ears. It filled us at once with a ter- 
rible foreboding. We knew that it must be our own 
dogs ; and we knew that Harry or Cudjo, or perhaps 
both, would be coming close upon their heels. I knew 
- that the dogs would soon be killed by the herd ; and 
♦hen poor Harry — he would be at once torn to pieces. 
This was a fearful thought, and Frank and I paused 
a moment, with palpitating hearts, to listen. Yes, it 
was the dogs. We could hear them yelping and 
barking at intervals, and evidently coming nearer. 
'The next moment we could plainly distinguish voices, 
as of people following upon the track of the dogs. 
The voices could be no other than those of Harry and. 
Cudjo coming in search of us. 1 was irresolute how 


BESIEGEb \N A TREE. 


3S9 


to act. Should I allow them to come on, and, while 
l^'e dogs might keep the peccaries engaged for a mo- 
rrent, shout out and warn them to take to the trees ? 
It then occurred to me that I might leave Frank where 
he was, and, by making a sudden rush through the 
smoke, get nearer to Harry and Cudjo, and give them 
warning before the peccaries could get up. For* 
tunhtely, their voices sounded in the right direction, 
and 1 might reach them without being pursued at all. 

“ I did not hesitate a moment after forming this re 
solve ; but, handing my empty rifle to Frank, and 
drawing my knife, I dropped down among the smok* 
ing heaps of half-burnt moss. I ran off the moment 
my feet touched the ground ; and after going a dis- 
tance of a hundred yards or so, I came in sight of 
the dogs, and, the next moment, of Harry and Cudjo. 
But at the same instant, on glancing back, I saw the 
whole herd of the peccaries rushing after me with 
shrill cries. I had barely time to shout to Harry and 
Cudjo, and swing myself up to a branch, when the 
animals were around me. The others, seeing me 
climb, and also perceiving the cause, ran to a tree 
and the next moment I had the satisfaction of seeing 
both of them mount into its branches. The dogs, on 
llie c ontrary, ran forward to meet the herd and give 
them battle. This did not last long, for, as soon as 
they had encountered the sharp teeth of the peccaries, 
they ran howling back to the tree where Harry and 
33* 


390 BESIEGED IJ A TREE. 

CudjO had caken shelter. Fortunately for me dogs, 
poor brutes ! there were some low branches, to which 
by the help of Cudjo, they were able to spring up. 
Had it not been so, they would soon have suffered the 
fa:e of the cougar ; for the peccaries, fiercely enraged 
in their short encounter with them, pursued them 
hotly, and surrounded the tree into which they had 
been lucky enough to climb. 

“ I was now left to myself. From the position 1 
occupied, I could not see Harry, Cudjo, or the mas^ 
tiffs, but I could see the black herd that^was around 
them. I could hear all that passed — the howling 
of the dogs — the voices of Harry and Cudjo — the 
vengeful notes of the peccaries, all ringing together 
in a wild concert. Then I heard the crack of the 
little rifle, and I saw one of the animals tumble over 
upon the ground. I heard the shouts of Cudjo, and 
I could see the blade of his long spear lounging down 
at intervals among the dark bodies below. I could 
see that it streamed with blood, and that numbers 
of the animals were falling to the earth. Again came 
the crack of Harry’s rifle, again the Icud barking of 
the dogs, and again the shouts of Cudjo, as he stood 
upon the /owermost branches and plied his terrible 
weapon. And thus, for some minutes, raged the 
battle, until I could see the ground fairly strewed with 
black and bleeding forms. Only a few of the pecca* 
*es remained upon their feet ; and these, at length 


BESIEGED ;N A TREE. 391 

becol.iing alarmed by the fearful slaughter of theii 
companions, turned away from the tree, and fled into 
the thick underwood. It was plain that they were 
defeated, and would not again molest us ; and feeling 
confident of this, we all descended from our trees, 
and made our way to the house as quickly as ne 
ftcu’d, so as to relieve the anxiety of my wife. 

“ Although we often afterwards met a few of fie 
peccaries in our hunting excursions, and had the 
fortune to capture some of their young, they never, 
from that time, oflered to attack us, but always en- 
deavored to escape. It is the nature of this animal 
to fight bravely with an enemy until conquered, when 
it will always afterwards run at his approach. In 
fact, there appeared to be but one herd of them in 
the valley ; and as that had been nearly destroyed, we 
found them, in future, both scarce and shy. 

Next day, we returned, well armed, for our opos 
sum and her young, which, in our hurry, we had 
quite forgotten. We found, to our mortification, tha 
the cunning animal had gnawed off her fastenings 
and escaped, with her whole brood.” 


392 


AM ADVENTURE WITH DUSKY WOLVES. 


CHAPTER XLH. 

AlH ADVENTURE WITH DUSKY WOLVES. 

-\ • 

‘During that year, vve raised two crops of corn. 
N either one of them required as much as two rnor tha 
to bring it to maturity. ^ When we gathered our fall 
crop, we found that we had twenty times the full of 
our cart — enough to do us for a whole year, as 
well as to feed our animals in the winter. 

“ Our second year was spent pretty much as the 
first. We made our sugar in the spring, and planted 
a large quantity of corn. We added to our stock of 
pets both deer and antelope ; and, among other ani- 
mals, we caught an old she-wolf, with a large brood 
of wolf puppies at her heels. I need hardly tell you 
.hat we were constrained to kill the old one, on ac- 
count of her savage disposition ; but the young ones 
W3 kept and reared. They grew up quite as tame 
as our -own dogs, with whom they fraternized as if 
they had been of the same species. 

“ During the summer and winter, we had sever*-!) 
adventures in the trapping and killing of wild ani- 
mals , but one of these adventures was of silch a 









ADVENTURE WITH DUSKY WOLVES. 


393 


singular and dangerous character, that you may feel 
interested in its narration. 

“ It occurred in the dead of winter, when there 
was snow upon the ground ; and, in fact, it was the 
severest winter we experienced during our sojourn ir 
Uie valley. 

“ The lake was frozen over, and the ice was as 
smooth as glass. Of course, we spent much of our 
time in skating about over its surface, as it gave ua 
health and a good appetite. Even Cudjo had taken 
a fancy for this amusement, and was also one of the 
skaters. Frank was fonder of it than any of us, and 
was, in fact, the best skater in our community. 

“ One day, however, neither Cudjo nor I had gone 
out, but only Frank and Harry. The rest of ua 
were busy at some carpenter work within doors. 
We could hear the merry laugh of the boys, and the 
ring of their skates, as they scoured over the smooth 
ice. All at once, a cry reached our ears^ which we 
knew betokened the presence of some danger. 

“ ‘ O Robert ! ’ ejaculated niy wife, ‘ they have 
broken through the ice ! ’ 

“ We all dropped what we held in our hands, and 
rushed for the door. I seized a rope as I ran ; while 
Cudjo laid hold of his long spear, thinking that that 
might best help us. This was the work of a moment, 
and the next we were outside the house. \\ hat was 
our astonishment to see both the boys, away at the 


394 AN ADVENTURE WITH DUSKY WOLVES. 

larthest end of the lake, still upon their feet, bji 
skating towards us as fast as they could drive ! Al 
the same time, our eyes rested upon a terrible object. 
Close behind them upon the ice, and following at 
full gallop, was a pack of wolves! They were not 
the small prairie wolves, — which either of the boya' 
might have chased with a stick, -—but of a species 
known as the ‘ great dusky wolf’ of the Rocky Moun- 
tains. There were six of them in all. Each of them 
was twice the size of the prairie wolf, and tbeii 
long, dark bodies, gaunt with hunger, and crested from 
head to tail with a high, bristling mane, gave them a 
most fearful appearance. They ran with their ears 
set back, and their jaws apart, so that we could see 
the red tongues and white teeth. 

“We did not halt a moment, but rushed onward for 
the lake. I flung down the rope, and seized hold 
of a large rail as I ran, while Cudjo hurried forward, 
brandishing his spear. Mary, with presence of mind, 
turned back into the house for my rifle. 

“ I saw that Harry was foremost, and that the^ 
fiv^rce pursuers were fast closing upon Frank. This , 
was strange, for we knew that Frank was by fai the 
bef?* skater. We all called out to him, uttering con- 
fused shouts of encouragement. Both were bearing 
themselves manfully, but Frank was most in danger 
The wolves were upon his heels ! ‘ O (Jod ! they 

will devour him ! ’ I cried m my agony, expecting 


AN ADVENTURE WITH DUSKY WOLVES. 39J< 


.he next moment to see him torn down upon the ice 
What was my joy at seeing him suddenly wheel, and 
dart off in a new direction, with a shout ol‘ triumph ! 
The wolves, thus nimbly eluded, now kept after 
Harry — who, in turn, become the object of our anxi- 
ety. In a moment, they were upon him ; but he, 
already warned by his brother, wheeled in a similar 
manner ; while the fierce brutes, carried along by the 
impetus of their race, swept to a considerable dis- 
tance upon the ice before they could turn themselves. 
Their long, bushy tails, however, soon enabled them 
to veer round in the new direction, and they galloped 
after Harry, who was now the nearest to them. 
Frank, in the mean time, had again turned, and came 
sweeping past behind them, uttering loud shouts, as 
if to tempt them from their pursuit of Harry. They 
heeded him not, and again he changed his direction, 
and, as though he was about to skate into their midst, 
followed the wolves. This time he shaved up close 
behind them, just at the moment Harry had made 
his second angle and escaped. 

“ At this juncture, we heard Frank caking out to 
his brother to make for the shore ; while, instead of 
retreating, he poised himself upon his skates until 
Harry had passed, and then dashed oflT, followed by 
the whole pack. Another shght turn brought him 
nearly in our direction ; but there was a large hole 
broken through the ice close by the shore, and we 


396 


AN ADVENTURE WITH DUSKY WOLVES. 


saw that, unless he turned again, he would skate into 
it! -We thought he was watching the wolves too 
intently to see it, and we shouted to warn him. Not 
so; he knew better than we what he was about 
When he had reached within a few feet of the hole, 
he wheeled sharply to the left, and came dashing up 
to the point where we stood to receive him. The 
wolves, following in a close clump, and too intent 
upon their chase to see any thing else, went sweeping 
past the angle, and the next moment plunged into the 
broken ice ! Cudjo and I ran shouting forward, and 
with the heavy rail and long spear commenced deal- 
ing death amongst them. It was but a short, though 
exciting scene. Five of them were speared -and 
drowned ; while the sixth succeeded in crawling out 
upon the ice, and was making off, frightened enough 
at the cold ducking he had got. I thought he was 
going to escape us, but at that moment I heard th«> 
crack of a rifle from behind, and the wolf tumbled 
over, howling like a shot hound. On turning around 
I saw Harry with my rifle, which Mary had brought 
down during the encounter, and which she had in- 
trusted to Harry, as a better marksman than herself. 
The wolf was still only wounded, kicking furiously 
' about upon the ice ; but Cudjo now ran out, and, 
after a short struggle, finished the business with 
his spear. 

“ That was a day of great excitement in our little 


AN ADVENTURE WITH DUSKY WOLVES. ^*>7 

community. Frank, who was the nero of the duv, 
although he said nothing, was not a little proud cf 
his skating feat. And well might he as, but for his 
manoeuvres, poor Harry would undoubtedly haw 
(alien a prey *0 me fierce woivee.’’ 





♦ 




S'' 


/ 


* . V ' „ . . ~ ' I, .■ 

■ 1;^"" ■ * <-■' , ■ * , ■ . ■*“- '• •r'i 

• I.*;.;.' - • V ‘ - . r. 


"A MING THE GREAT KL». 




CHAPTER Jjf.lfl. 

iAMING THE GREAT ELK. 

“ C>N the third year, our beavers had increased to 
such numbers, that we saw it was time to thin them 
off, and commence laying up our store of furs. They 
aad grown so tame, that they would take food from 
,rfur hands. - We had no difficulty, therefore, in cap- 
turing those we intended to kill, without giving alarm 
■co the others. For this purpose we constructed a sort 
tyf penn, or by-pool, with raised mud banks, near the 
edge of the lake, and a sluice gate leading into it 
Here we were accustomed to feed the animals ; and 
whenever a quantity of roots of the swamp sassafras 
was thrown into the pool, a large number of the 
oeavers crowded into it, so that we had nothing else 
10 do but shut down the sluice gate, and catch them 
at our leisure. We accomplished all this very quietly ; 
and as none that we trapped were ever allowed to go 
back' and ‘ tell the tale,’ and as at all other seasons 
the trap was open and free, of course, the surviving 
beavers, with all their sagacity, never knew what 
Viecame of their companions, and did not even ap« 


TAMING THE GREAT ELK. 34 j 

Dear tu stispect of foul play, but remained tame 
as ever. 

“ In our first crop of skins, we laid by at least 
450/. worth, with more than 50Z. worth of ‘casto* 
reum.’ In our second year, we were enabled to do 
still better ; and the produce of that season we 
estimate at 1000/. Wanting a place to dry and store 
our furs, we built a new log cabin, which is the one 
we are now living in. The old one became our 
storehouse. 

“ The third year of our trapping was quite as 
productive as the second ; and so with the fourth 
and fifth. Each of them yielded at least 1000/. 
worth of furs and ‘ castoreum ; ’ so that our old 
cabin now contains 4500Z. of property, which we 
have taken care to keep in good condition. Besides, 
we estimate our live stock in the dam, which we 
cm trap at any time, at 2500/. more ; so that, you 
see, we are worth in all 7000/. at this moment. Do 
you not think, my friends, that we have realized 
the prediction of my wife, and made a fortune in the. 
desert 1 

“ As soon as we began to collect these valuab.e 
furs, a new train of thought was suggested to us — 
when and how we should bring them to a market. 

“ Here was a grand difficulty that stared us in the 
face Without a market in which to dispose of them 
uur furs would be of no more use to us than a taa 


TAMING THE GREAT ELK. 

of gold would be to a man dying with hunger in ihf 
middle of a desert. Although surrounded with plenty 
for all our wants and necessities, we were still, in a 
manner, imprisoned in our little valley oasis. We 
could no more leave it than the castaway sailor could 
leave his desert island. With all the animals that 
were subject to us, none of them were beasts of bur 
den or draught — that is, except Pompo. He was 
old at the time that these reflections first occurred 
to us; and when we should be ready to leave our 
valley in a few years more, poor Pompo would be 
still older ; in fact, barely able to carry himself, le* 
alone a whole family of people, with several thousanc 
beaver skins to boot. 

“ Although quite happy where we were, — for we 
were always too much occupied to be otherwise, — 
these thoughts would intrude upon us every now and 
then, and they gave us a good deal of anxiety 

“ As for Mary and myself, I believe we should 
have been contented to remain where we were, and 
lay our bones in this lovely but lonely spot. But 
we had others to think of — our children. To them 
we had a duty to perform — the duty of their edu- 
cation. We could not think of bringing them up 
ignorant of the world, and leaving them to such a 
wild and wayward Cate as would be theirs. These 
reflections, I have said, at times pressol heavily 
upon us. 


TAMING THE GREAT ELK. 


401 


“ T proposed to my wife that I should take Pompo, 
and endeavor to penetrate the settlements of New 
Mexico — where I could obtain either mules, horses, 
or oxen. These I should bring back to our valley 
and keep them until we required them for carrying us 
out of the desert. Mary would not listen to this pro- 
posal. She would not consent that we should be 
separated. ‘ We might never,’ said she, ‘ see each 
other again.’ She would not allow me to go. 

“ Indeed, when I reflected seriously on this matter, 
I saw that it would have been useless for me to make 
the attempt. Even could I have crossed the desert 
in safety, where was* the mone) wherewith to pur- 
chase these animals ? I had not enough to buy either 
ox or ass. The people of New Mexico would have 
laughed at me. 

“ ‘ Let us be patient,’ advised my wife. ‘We are 
happy where we are. When the time arrives, and 
we are ready to go forth, trust that the hand which 
brought us here can and will guide us safely back 
again.’ 

“ With such wcrds of consolation my noble wife 
always ended our conversation on that subject. 

“ I looked upon her words as almost prophetic ; 
and so they proved in this case, as on many other 
occasions. 

“ One day — it was about the fourth year of our 
ojourn in the vaPey — we were talking on this very 
34 * HR 


*02 


TAMING THE GREAT ELK. 


theme ; and Mary, as usual, had just expressed hei 
firm reliance upon the hand of Providence to deliver 
us from our strange captivity, when our conversation 
was interrupted by Harry, who came running into 
the house, breathless with haste, and with looks full 
of triumph. 

“‘Papa! mammal’ cried he; ‘two elks — two 
young elks — taken in the trap ! Cudjo is bringing 
them on in the cart ; two beautiful young elks, about 
as big as year-old calves.’ 

“ There was nothing very new or strange in this 
announce rnent. We had captured elk in the pitfall 
before ; and we had several of them in our park — 
old ones. It was the fact of their being ‘ young elk’ 
— a sort we had not yet taken — which had put Harry 
into an unusual state of excitement. 

“ I thought nothing of it at the moment, but went 
out along with Mary and the children to have a look 
at our new pets. 

“ While Cudjo and the boys were engaged in put- 
ting them into the park, all at once I remembered 
what I had read of, but which had hitherto escaped 
my memory — that the great American elk is capa- 
ble of being trained as a beast either of draught or 
burden. 

“I need hardly tell you, my friends, that this 
thought at once led to a series of reflections. Could 


riiMTNG THE GREAT ELK. 403 

these elk be trained to draw a wagon — to draw us 
out of the desert ? 

“ I lost no time in communicating my thoughts to 
my wife. She, too, had read of this ; in fact, in a 
London menagerie, had seen the elk in harness. The 
^Ihing, therefore, was practicable. We resolved to 
use every effort to make it so. 

“ Let me not weary you, my friends, with details. 
We set to work to train our young elk. No man 
knew better than Cudjo how to break a pair of oxen 
to either plough or cart ; and when the elk had 
grown big, Cudjo yoked them to the plough, and 
turned up several acres of ground with them. Dur* 
ing the winter, too, many a good load of dead wood 
did Cudjo makb them haul up to the wood pile that 
supplied our fire. In short, they worked both in ^ the 
plough and cart, as gently as oxen.*' 


i04 


r TCrilKG THE WILD HOKIsBS. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

CATCHING THE WILD HORfES. 

* We had accomplished a great object. Nothing 
remained^ut to train a sufficient number of elk for 
our purpose. We trapped several fawns, and Cudjo 
proceeded in breaking them as he had done the 
others. 

“ At this time, however, an event occurred which 
verified my wife’s prediction still more clearly, and 
proved that the hand of God was over and around us, 

“One morning, a little after daybreak, and just 
before we had risen, we were all thrown into a state 
of consternation by a noise that came from without. 
It was the trampling of hoofs — of many hoofs ; and 
there was no difficulty in perceiving that hordes were 
about the house. Their neighing proved this ; for 
Pompo had neighed in his stable, and we could hear 
a dozen of them uttering their loud responses. 

“ ‘ Indians ! ’ thought we ; and we gave ourselves 
up for lost. 

* We all ran to our arms, Harry, Frank, and 
I seized hold of our rifles, while Cudjo betook 


CATCHING THE WILD HORSES. 


406 


himself to liis great spear. I opened one of the 
windows, and looked cautiously out. Horses 
were, sure enough, but no horsemen. There they 
were, — in all nearly a dozen of them, — white, 
black, red, speckled and spotted like hounds. They 
were dashing about through the open ground, neigh- 
ing, snorting, rearing at each other, and tossing back 
their long, flowing manes, while their tails swept 
away behind them in beautiful luxuriance. There 
were they, without bridle or saddle, or any other sign 
that the hand of man had ever touched them. And 
never had it. I saw at a glance what they were. 
They were mustangs — the wild horses of the desert 
We were not long in resolving how to act. It 
was evident they had come up the stream ^rom the 
eastern plains ; and, seeing the valley, had been 
tempted by its greenness, and had strayed into it. 
Our design, then, was at once formed, and that was 
to prevent them from getting out again. 

“ This could be accomplished very easily, by clos- 
ing up the road which led dowm to the valley ; but 
how were we to get to it without giving them the 
alarm ? They were playing directly in front of 
the house, and we could not pass out of the door 
without showing ourselves. This would at once set 
them off in a wild gallop, and we should never see 
more of them. We knew they would not allow us 
tc approach them — for we had seen several bands 


406 


-CATCHING THE WILD HORSES. 


of them while crossing the prairies, and those would 
not allow our hunters to get within less than a mile 
of them. This is a curious fact — that the horse, 
which you would suppose to be the natural companion 
of man, once he has escaped from captivity, and 
goes wild, becomes more shy of man than any other 
animal, and more difficult to be approached. He 
seems to have an idea of what is wanted with him, 
and is determined not to return to slavery. I had 
never seen a drove of wild horses; but the thought 
occurred to me, that there was some old ‘ runaway ’ 
among them, who told the rest how he had* been used, 
and cautioned them to keep clear of us. Certain it 
is, that the wild horse is the wildest of all animals. 

“ How, then, were we to get out, and circumvent 
the drove ? That was soon decided. Telling Cudjo 
to bring his axe and follow me, I climbed out at the 
back window of our cabin ; and keeping the house 
between us and the horses, we crept along past our 
storehouse and stable, and got into the woods in the 
rear. We skirted through the woods, and soon 
reached the point where the road runs cut of the 
valley. .Here Cudjo set lustily to work with his axe , 
and in half an hour we had felled a tree across the 
track, comoletelv blocking it up. We took care to 
make it secure, by adding several rails, in such a 
way that no horse without wings could get over it. 
This done, we gave ourselves no further concern 


CONCLUSION 


4(n 

about being seen by the mustangs ; and, shouldenng 
our implements, we marched back to the house. Of 
course, the moment the wild horses saw us, they 
galloped off into the woods ; but we did not care for 
that, as we could easily' find them again. And find 
them we did. Pompo was saddled and bridled ; a 
lasso was made out of raw-hide ropes ; and in less 
than three days the whole cdbaUad(k, of wild horses 
— eleven in all — was shut up in our park. 

“Now, my friends, I fear I have quite tired you 
with our adventures. I might relate many more, 
and perhaps at some future time may do so. T 
might tell you how we caught and tamed the wild 
sheep and the antelopes ; how we captured the young 
buffaloes on the upper plains, and tamed them, and 
made cheese and butter from their milk ; how we 
reared up the kittens of the cougar and the cubs of 
the black bear ; how the wild geese, and swans, and 
cranes, and pelicans migrated to our lake, and be- 
came quite tame with us ; how Cudjo and I, with our 
horses, made a journey across the desert to the 
‘ Camp of Sorrow,’ as we called the place where our 
friends had been. massacred ; how we picked out two 
of the best of the wagons, and with the gunpowder 
which we took from the bombshells,' and many other 
useful articles, returned again to our valley. These, 
and many other adventures with wolves and wol- 
verenes, with paithers and peccaries, and porcupines 


408 


CONCLUSION. 


and opossums, I might detail to you ; but no d'oub 
you are already wearied with the length of my 
story. 

“ It is now nearly ten years since our arrival in 
this valley oasis. During all that time, we have 
iited contented and happy ; and God has favored 
our efforts, and crowned them with success. But our 
children have grown up almost wild, as you see — 
with no other education than that which we ourselves 
have been able to impart to them ; and we are anxious, 
on their account, once more to return to the civilized 
world. It is our intention, then, 'to- proceed to St. 
Louis in the spring. For this purpose, we have every 
thing ready, — our wagons, and horses, and furs, — 
all except those which we intend to trap in the ensu- 
ing winter. I know not whether we may ever return 
to this sweet spot — which will be always dear to us 
from a thousand memories. That will depend upon 
circumstances arising in the future, and which we 
cannot now foresee. It is our intention, h' wever, 
on leaving the valley, to throw open their bars, and 
set all our captives free — to let them return once 
more to their wild independence. 

“ And now, my friends, I have but one request to 
make of you. It is late in the season. You have losr 
your trail ; and, as you all know, it is very perilout 
to attempt crossing the prairies in winter. Remuic 
vith me, then, until spring, and let us all go lO* 


CONCLUSION. 


409 


getlici. The winter will be a short one ; and I shall 
endeavor to make it pass pleasantly for you. I can 
promise you plenty of hunting adventures ; and, when 
the proper season arrives, we shall have a grand baitut 
of the beavers. Speak, then ! What say you to 
remain ? ” 


I need hardly tell you, my young reader, that we 
at once accepted the proposal. Our friend M‘Knight 
would of course remain, on account of the little Luisa ; 
and as for the rest of us, we knew well the hardships 
we should have to encounter, should we travel the 
great plains during winter. We knew that in that 
latitude, as Rolfe had said, the winter would be a short 
one ; and therefore we should not lose much time by 
staying until spring. The strange wild life which we 
should lead had charms for all of us ; and we willing- 
ly consented to remain. 

As Rolfe promised, we ht.d many hunting adveo' 
tures ; and among the rest the battue of beavers 
— nearly two thousand of which were trapped and 
taken. 

As soon as spring arrived, we made ready to set 
forth. Three wagons were prepared — two of them 
loadea with furs and valuable castoreum. The third 
carried the females — while Rolfe and h»s sons rode 
upon horseback. The walls of the deer park were 
3.5 


II 


410 


CONCLUSION 


brol.en down, and the aviaries thrown open ; ana aftei 
disti-ibuting plenty of food to the numerous pets, we 
left them to themselves, and took our departure from 
the valley. We struck northward for the old trail , 
and on reaching it turned our faces for St. Louis — 
where we arrived in the month of May, and where 
Bolfe soon after sold his furs for a large sum of 
money. 

* * • « • 

It is now several years since that time ; and dur- 
ing the interval, I, — the writer of this little book, 
— living in a distant country, heard nothing more 
about Rolfe or his family. A few days ago, however 
I received a letter from Rolfe himself, which gave 
me the gratifying intelligence that they were all well, 
and in excellent spirits. Frank and Harry had just 
finished their college studies, and had come out 
accomplished scholars and sterling men. Mary and 
Luisa — Luisa was still one of the family — had 
returned from school. Besides this, Rolfe’s lettei 
contained some very interesting intelligence. No 
less than four marriages were in contemplation in 
his family. Harry was about to wed the little “ dark 
sister,” I^uisa. Frank had come to an understanding 
with a fine young lady, the daughter of a Missouri 
planter; and the fair-haired, blue-eyed, rosy-lipped 
Mary had enslaved a young “ prairie merchant,” one 
of those who had spent the winUsr with us in tha 


CONCLUSION. 


411 


Falley oasis, and who had been very gallant to 
Mary all along the journey homeward. But who 
was to be the fourth couple ? Ah ! thal question we 
must leave for Cudjo and his “ lubbly Lucy ” to 
answer. 

Rolfe’s letter further informed • me that it was 
their intention — as soon as the marriage festivities 
were over — to return to the valley oasis. All of them 
were going together — M‘Knighl, new-married couples, 
and all. They were to take with them many wagons, 
with horses and cattle, and implements of husbandry 
— with the intention of settling there for life, and 
forming a little patriarchal colony of themselves. 

It was a pleasant letter to read ; and as I perused 
it over and over, and reflected on the many happy 
hours I had passed in the company of these good 
people, I could not help thanking th^ fate that flrsi 
led me to the hofM in the desert 





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